Back to the West: The Corps of Rediscovery
by AKDyadyaVasya
Summary: Elder Lyons calls for a small expedition back to the west to reconnect with the Brotherhood leadership. Brotherhood and Outcasts join together again, and set off on a journey that will prove to be a lot more treacherous than any of them expected. COMPLETE
1. Celebration, Reflection, and Realization

**Part 1 – Celebration, Reflection, and Realization**

The purified water flowing from Jefferson Memorial gave a calm background to the night as workers and guards diligently kept supplying caravans with the pure, clean water the Wasteland had needed for so long. The general feeling was one of relaxation, as the attacks on caravan shipments had ceased a week ago. To add to the feeling of celebration, the oppressive Enclave had finally been driven from the Capital Wasteland just hours before, and the sounds of celebration could be heard in the distance from the ruins of the Pentagon that the Brotherhood of Steel used as their base.

In the Citadel courtyard, a happy buzz pervaded the dark night, lit up by the many fires thrown together by the initiates, knights, and paladins of the Brotherhood of Steel. The sound of steel impacting steel echoed through the courtyard of the citadel, and cheers erupted all around. A dummy wearing Enclave Hellfire Armor tumbled to the ground, the helmet rolling off, as Paladin Vargas got up and threw his hands in the air, swaying slightly. The night was lit up by the many built fires in the courtyard. He took a beer from a grinning Paladin Kodiak and limped back to several gathered Brotherhood soldiers. Vargas had received a nasty plasma rifle shot to the leg, but survived, along with the rest of the Lyon's Pride. The harsh lessons they learned from the battle at Galaxy News Radio with the Supermutant Behemoth and Overlords, and from the costly assault on the purifier, had been expertly analyzed, and thanks to the new tactics, Brotherhood losses in the final push against the Enclave were extremely low. The Lone Wandered had even called down an orbital strike on Adam's Airforce Base to eradicate any remaining Enclave presence there, though this was as much to end the war as it was vengeance for the destruction of Liberty Prime. There were still some significant injuries, as evidenced by Vargas' leg, but everyone was in too high spirits about their victory to let these things ruin their mood. Meanwhile, Knight Donnovan Edan, formerly known as the Lone Wanderer, was sitting back around a fire with Sentinel Sarah Lyons, Knight Captain Dusk, Paladin Cross, and Paladin Glade, laughing at the antics, and sharing drinks and swapping stories of the fight.

"The fall that Hellfire trooper took was hilarious!" Glade was saying, referencing Donnovan's shot that had killed a troublesome Enclave sniper.

"Wasn't exactly hard." Donnovan laughed, taking a drink from his beer. "I mean, he was standing up in the open, the idiot."

"I really wish I could've seen that," Sarah sighed.

"You were taking a nap, girlie." Dusk pulled Sarah into a headlock.

"No, that was a coma." Sarah's muffled voice. "More than a damn nap."

"I too, am happy this is all over." Cross smiled. She looked at Donnovan. "Your father would've been proud to have seen this done. Now, his dream for purified water is fulfilled. Let us toast!" Everyone nodded, raising their drinks.

"To James!" They all said in unison.

"I know you're, happy, ma'am." Glade stated, looking at Cross. "But you should loosen up a bit. You're way too formal."

"Too formal, you say?" Cross raised an eyebrow. She put down her beer and walked away.

"Good going." Sarah grinned.

"Did I really say something rude?" Glade had a puzzled expression on his face. Any wonder of this was suddenly interrupted as an extremely loud impact of metal, and the loudest cheers yet, drew their attention to the Enclave dummy. The helmet, armguards, and a legging had flown off, and Cross was standing up off of the ground, a smile on her face, as the surrounding Brotherhood members cheered loudly for their third-in-command. She did a purposeful, overly-formal bow, before walking back over to the group.

"How was that?" She asked.

"That… That was…" Glade stuttered, unsure of what to say.

"Friggin' amazing." Donnovan managed to say, while Sarah and Dusk rolled with laughter.

"I know how to have fun. I just do it in a less obtrusive way than you all." Cross stated simply, taking a sip from her beer.

"Something on your mind, Don?" Sarah asked, slightly tilting her head to the side.

"Huh?" Donnovan said, shaking his head. He had been staring into the fire thoughtfully. "Oh. Yeah. The victory's awesome, don't get me wrong. It's just that… what's next, you know? Since I left the vault, I've always had a purpose, always had reason. Finding my dad, helping Megaton out. I met up with the Brotherhood, and we had this huge task in front of us. We finished it, so. Now what? What do we do?"

"What, you want _more _fighting? Warmongering, much?" Glade asked.

"There's always the muties in D.C." Sarah suggested.

"Yeah, but that's always been there. And will be for a long time. We just run missions against them, you know? That'll loose its luster, fast. What else is there for us? No huge problem to solve, you know?"

"I guess. I still wouldn't mind a bit more sanity around here." Glade said. "Dealing with mutants and nothing else should be kind of simple."

...

A raider's head splintered into bloody pieces like wood going through a chipper as Dusk's custom, hollow-point .308 round found its mark into the man's nasal cavity. The body fell messily to the ground in front of his comrades, who charged forward regardless. The two unsuspecting raiders turned a corner, only to be surprised by Paladin Glade. Using his modified power fist, he delivered a crushing blow to a thug's spine. The sickening crunch of bone as the man's body literally broke over the metal weapon was immediately drowned out by the man's screams, which in turn were cut short as he was sent sailing into a ruined brick wall. The surviving thug struck at Glade with a sword, and the blade glanced pointlessly off of his armor. Glade cracked the man in the chest with his power-fist, sending him roughly into the ground.

Donnovan aimed down the sights of his AK-47 as a raider's head appeared behind a wall, followed by shoulders and arms holding a rifle. Donnovan carefully let a single shot loose, and the 7.62 round flew true, caving in the target's face, sending the owner spinning to the ground, staining the rubble with a red hue. He paused to confirm his kill, then looked over in time to see another raider charging him with a sledgehammer. Donnovan sidestepped and threw out his armored elbow. It connected with the raider's nose, and Donnovan felt the cartilage break as blood sprayed onto his arm and the man's legs flew forward, gravity taking over as his body hit the ground, hard. Donnovan stepped on the man's throat, feeling the raider's windpipe turn to sand under his armored boot. He looked over at his comrades. Dusk cracked a female raider in the face with her rifle, and the victim dropped out of sight behind a pile of rubble. Dusk leveled her sawed-off shotgun at the raider and pulled both triggers, causing blood to spray onto her armor from the unseen target.

They both looked over at Glade. Glade was already extremely strong, owing to his task as the heavy weapons specialist of Lyon's Pride. His power armor supplemented his strength to almost superhuman levels. He was holding the last raider in the air, gripping the thug's face with his power fist. The raider screamed horribly as Glade's fingers closed. His scream turned into a horrible gurgle, and the sound of bone crunching like dry ice finally silenced him. Glade let the limp body drop unceremoniously to the ground. Glade walked way from the twitching body of his first victim, dead, with nerve endings still firing.

"Another day, another group of raiders." Donnovan sighed, kicking at the discarded sword of one of the raiders.

"So I know I've never said this, and I probably never will again… But about the whole 'no goal' situation… I'm beginning to think that you were right." Glade said, testing the finger covering of his power fist. It was a week after the celebration, and boredom was starting to sink in, as Donnovan had predicted.

"Told ya, he had a point." Dusk said, brushing some of the blood off of her armor.

There was a crunch of gravel, barely noticeable, but Donnovan, trained well by Dusk, reacted immediately.

"Shh." He whispered, moving towards a corner of the Arlington Library and putting his shoulder against the wall. The other two took their positions, stacking up behind Donnovan and moving to the corner of the library. Donnovan, pressed his head against the wall, waited quietly. He saw the very tip of a rifle come around the corner. In one motion, he grabbed the rifle and yanked forward, set his leg into the ground, and turned his hips, sending a Brotherhood Outcast falling over him to the ground. The Outcast rolled away and un-holstered two pistols, aiming them at Donnovan, while Donnovan had his AK-47, iron sights on the Outcast's helm.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Said a new voice. A large group of Outcasts were pressed against the wall, on the other side, all aiming at either Donnovan, Dusk, or Glade, while Dusk aimed right back at one. Glade simply stood there, looking at the group. The apparent leader of the Outcasts was standing in between Dusk and his group, his hands up. "We're not here to fight."

Knowing there was no possible way for him to get out of this, Donnovan put his gun away, and held his hand out to the Outcast on the ground. Unsurely, the offer was accepted, and Donnovan pulled the Outcast up.

"If you're not here to fight, what the hell are you doing sneaking up on us?" Dusk asked.

"We heard gunfire. Just taking precautions." The Outcast leader, who Donnovan recognized by his armor as Protector Henry Casdin, said. Donnovan unhooked his helmet, and removed it.

"Donnovan!" Said another of the Outcasts. Casdin smiled.

"Well well, Brotherhood now, are we Donnovan?"

"It's, uh, Knight Edan, actually." Donnovan grinned.

The tense mood had changed immediately once Donnovan removed his helmet. Though always slightly wary of Donnovan's connections to the Brotherhood, the Outcasts still liked him significantly due to the amount of gear and technology he had recovered for them, both from risking his life in the Operation: Anchorage simulation, and from the Wasteland in general.

"What are you doing here, Casdin?"

"Elder Lyons contacted us. He said the Brotherhood can now go back to its original mission."

"Say what!" Donnovan almost dropped his AK-47.

"Calm down, will you?" Dusk smacked Donnovan across the back of the head. She turned back to Casdin. "The hell do you mean, 'original mission'? Gathering tech?" Dusk asked.

"Indeed. He was telling us about you clearing out the Enclave." Casdin said. "Now that they're gone, and that purified water is flowing through the wasteland, he said the Brotherhood, while still dealing with the super mutants, can start gathering technology again."

"Okay… So what, you suddenly just come back and join up again?" Dusk asked, a note of indignation in her voice.

"In a sense, yes." Casdin said, unconcerned. "He said though, he needs to speak with quite a few of us personally. He actually mentioned that he wanted several Lyon's Pride members present as well." Casdin stated. Donnovan looked over at Glade, who shrugged.

"We've been on patrol all day, we haven't heard anything. Wonder if Sarah just got the word today." Glade stated. "I guess…" He awkwardly looked at the nearby Citadel. "I guess that means, we should… Go?"

"This is going to be interesting…" Dusk muttered quietly to Donnovan.


	2. Hello, Goodbye

**Part 2 – Hello, Goodbye**

The walk to the base was uneventful, but as the Outcasts filed into the Citadel, led by Glade, Dusk, and Donnovan, everything went silent. Not a sound was heard as the knights, paladins, scribes, and initiates in the courtyard of the Citadel stopped what they were doing and looked on at their lost brothers and sisters filing past them. Some looked on in curiosity, others in confusion, and the greatest number with scorn. The Outcasts had, after all, abandoned the Brotherhood and their Elder. The eerie silence continued as they walked across the courtyard and into the inner confines of the Citadel. They finally found themselves in the large open room that once housed Liberty Prime. There was light chatter amongst the Outcasts and Lyon's Pride, as Sarah and the rest had joined Glade, Dusk, and Donnovan. Several minutes later, Elder Lyons walked into the room, flanked by several scribes, including Scribe Yearling.

"Donnovan!" Yearling ran over to Donnovan and pulled him into a hug.

"Out of the library I see."

"Yeah, the Elder called us here."

"Same."

The Outcasts had stopped talking almost immediately, however. They were all silently watching Elder Lyons, some with awkward guilt, others with smug determination.

"Brothers and sister, both present and past." Lyons stated. Everyone turned their attention to him. Donnovan noted that Star Paladin Cross was bent over, leaning on the railing of the catwalk above them, watching the Outcasts.

"I have called you here for several reasons. One is that we will indeed be able to now start diverting manpower to our original mission of finding and preserving technology." Two of the Outcasts nodded approvingly. "I have made this decision, because I believe we will be able to heal the rift caused between us. With our original mission back in the picture, we will still be able to honor the Brotherhood back west."

The Brotherhood looked at Lyons interestedly.

"I have called you here, as I believe we can come together and start looking for technology again, as we did before, and it would make things that much easier on both of us. I will still be sending some of the Brotherhood out to help the people of the Wasteland against the super mutants." One of the Outcasts shook his head in annoyance. "However, we will also be concentrating on technology. You Outcasts do not have to deal with the super mutants if you don't want to, and can simply work with the knights and paladins in recovering the technology. What say you? Can we come back together like the family we are?"

Casdin scratched his chin, thoughtfully.

"I do like the idea. But you said you wanted our trackers and recon. Why?"

"I'll get to the point. I am considering sending an expedition to make contact with the west, among other things. Sending one man would take too long, and usually fails because too many things can go wrong. But a group would be safer."

A full ten seconds of ringing silence followed the statement.

"Expedition? Don't we already know the way?" Sarah asked.

"More to the point," Dusk said, "what 'other things' are you referring to?"

"We only know so much, as we took one path. It has been over twenty years since that time. It would be beneficial to all of the Brotherhood if a different path was taken for the trip back."

"Let me guess, you wanna send one of us?" Sarah said.

"Yes. I was hoping that the uninjured of Lyon's Pride would head up the expedition." Elder Lyons stated. "There's just one problem. I can't send more than a few of our people, if we want to keep working on both of our missions. That is why I requested the Outcasts bring their people."

"And how will we keep from tearing each other apart?" Knight Captain Gallows, who until now, had been in the shadows to the left, silently leaning against the wall, asked as he walked over and stood next to the members of Lyon's Pride.

"The fact that we have the same mission, now." Casdin spoke up.

Elder Lyons looked happier than he'd ever been. His voice quavered.

"I never wanted the Brotherhood to split. Differing opinions should never have gotten this far." He stated, his voice cracking slightly. Several of the Outcasts also cleared their throats, looking away, trying not to get overtaken by emotion.

"Easy there." Casdin stated, stepping forward and holding out his hand. He and Lyons shook. Casdin looked at his group.

"Well… Let's see. How many people do we need on this journey?"

"Shall we get volunteers, first?"

"Me." Donnovan said immediately. Sarah looked at him with surprise.

"You do realize it's a journey of several months, right?" Sarah said, raising her eyebrow.

"Yeah, and it's perfect. I want to see more of the former United States. There's still some mystery left. This is exactly what the pre-war United States pined for, for so long. There was no wonder left in their world. We have a chance to start again. It's kind of been a dream of mine."

"Well then." Said a voice. Cross was walking down the metal stairs to the gathered Brotherhood, smiling. "Looks like my oath to defend you hasn't ended just yet. Where you go, I will go. You've brought much pride to the Brotherhood and your father's memory already."

"Thanks, Cross. You're the best." Donnovan grinned. Star Paladin Cross had been one of the most influential people in his travels. She always had a realistic outlook, an encouraging tone, and kept him in line, both consciously and subconsciously.

"I'm still a bit concerned about the Outcasts coming with us." Dusk admitted.

"Feeling's only mutual," one of the Outcasts called.

"Us?" Donnovan asked.

"Of course, 'us'. You think I'm gonna let your dumb ass rack up more sniper kills than me?" Dusk grinned.

"Cannot have you wandering around on your own, my friend." Glade stated, patting Donnovan on the back.

"Fair enough. And don't worry about the Outcasts. If I'm there, shit won't get out of hand." Donnovan said.

"In that case, I'm in." Said an Outcast scribe, stepping out from behind the armor-wearers. Donnovan recognized her as Specialist Olin, the scribe at the Outcast outpost. She had been one of the few Outcasts at the outpost in the D.C. ruins that had been supportive of the promise to reward Donnovan when he completed the Anchorage simulation.

"Hell yeah, Olin." Donnovan smiled as Olin walked over to him.

"I'm bored of playing guard dog." Said an armor-clad Outcast. She was the one that Donnovan had disarmed, and as she took off her helmet, Donnovan recognized her. It was Defender Anne Marie Morgan, one of the first Outcasts he had ever met. "Just don't throw me to the ground again. I'm expecting it now." She smirked. This made Donnovan rather happy. He had always loved literature, and one of his ways to stave off boredom was to read. Morgan was also a fan of literature, and Donnovan would visit the Outcasts every once in a while, usually chatting with Morgan about an author or two.

"I'll join in. Why not?" Vargas stated.

"I'll go. I've been guarding the entrance to the damn Outpost for so long, I think I'll loose my mind if I stay there any longer." Defender Morill announced. He was another of the Outcasts Donnovan recognized. Protector McGraw, who until this point had only been listening, moved forward.

"I'll join." He stated, looking around at everyone. "This is a chance to reconnect with our brothers."

"I agree." Defender Rococo Rockfowl stated, stepping forward. "I never really had too much of a problem with the change of goals before the split… Just wasn't really what I wanted to do. This sounds interesting, though." Everyone was discussing the strange situation. Everyone, that is, except Sarah Lyons, who was looking at Donnovan and the rest of the Pride that had decided to go.

"I want to go. I'm sick of that god-forsaken library." Scribe Yearling walked over and stood next to Dusk.

"Well then, isn't this a pleasant surprise." Elder Lyons said.

"A good-sized group." Protector Casdin agreed.

"Not to break up this happy little meeting, but I just have one question." Sarah Lyons stated, sneering slightly. "What the hell?"

"What do you mean?" Donnovan cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I… Urgh, never mind." Sarah threw up her hands, walking away.

"She's just playing hard to get…" Glade stated, unsuccessfully attempting to keep his voice steady to hide his laughter.

"Man, shut up." Donnovan shook his head.

"Well, she does have a point." Dusk stated. "We're all gung-ho about this, but… it'll take some planning. We'll need supplies, brahmin or robots to carry our gear, food… water…"

"I've already bought some brahmin from the trade caravans," Elder Lyons stated. "along with all of the food and medical supplies you will need. I'll give each of you some spare currency to buy whatever ammunition you need. You'll need a lot."

"Damn…" Glade cursed, looking incredulously at Elder Lyons while hefting Eugene, the minigun Donnovan had given him as a gift.

"When do you want us to head out?" Donnovan asked.

"Tomorrow morning. Take the rest of the day to get whatever ammunition, explosives, and other equipment you need. Rivet City's not too far away and they received a large shipment in last night." Elder Lyons said.

"What about us?" Casdin asked. "It's obvious not everyone else in the Brotherhood will be as welcoming as you were."

"We'll clear out an area for you to have as your own." Elder Lyons stated. "We can worry about ways to fix the rift after our expedition leaves."

"I'll send word for the rest of my Outcast to travel this way. Fort Independence was starting to fall apart anyway." Casdin stated. "It'll feel good to be back."

"Sir… Are you sure about this?" Morgan asked, looking from her leader to Elder Lyons.

"Somewhat." Casdin stated. "We're running out of options, to be honest. Not that our relationships with the others will exactly be cordial here, but it will be nice to see our brothers and sisters again, regardless."

"Oi, Don." Dusk yelled. An empty ammunition box crashed into Donnovan's shoulder armor, making him jump. He had been listening to the conversation between Morgan and Casdin, not paying attention to anything else. He looked angrily over at Dusk. Glade was standing behind her, grinning. Donnovan kicked the green, metal box back at them.

"What?" He half-shouted.

"Let's go shopping at Rivet City. We've got plenty of time. I wanna look at what Flak & Shrapnel got in."

"Just like a woman, yelling and throwing things at a man until he goes shopping with her." Donnovan grumbled as he joined Dusk and Glade. Dusk smacked him across the back of the head.

"Watch it." Dusk laughed.

"Yeah, Dusk." Glade joined in. "What are you gonna shop for, a new spatula? Or a mop, perhaps? I know the kitchen needs some cleaning."

"Keep talking, you're only digging yourself a deeper hole."

…..

The Rivet City Market was bustling with activity. Merchants were trying to service every customer while lines formed and kids ran back and forth through the crowds. Donnovan, Dusk, and Glade had left their power armor in the Citadel so as not to draw too much attention to themselves, and were browsing the shops in regular, unmarked combat armor. Some people recognized Donnovan regardless. He had received a free beer from Gary Staley, a hug from Angela Staley, a handshake from Harkness, and waves from countless others.

"Alright." Glade stated, briefly shifting his pack with his shoulder. "I think I have enough five millimeter rounds to take apart a behemoth."

"I'm mostly set too." Dusk said, looking at a handful of caps. "I have enough to grab one more frag grenade though."

"Yeah, I'm mostly full too." Donnovan said. He was kneeling on the floor, checking his backpack. "I wanna pick up a few spare parts though."

"For what, your AK? I thought that was your pride and joy and never busted." Glade snickered.

"Almost never." Donnovan stated. "All I really need to repair that thing is a big hammer and a swift kick." Dusk laughed. "Nah, it's for my sniper rifle. The bolt's been acting up, lately." Donnovan threw the top over his pack, picked it up and walked over to a free spot at the counter of Flak and Shrapnel's, where he put it down next to him.

"Hey, you're back. What do you need?" Flak smiled.

"Can I see that old sniper rifle you have there?" Donnovan asked, pointing at one on a middle shelf. Flak nodded and handed it to Donnovan, who inspected the bolt, the firing pin, and the trigger."

"I'll take it… And… Can I get a speed loader for a .44 please?" Donnovan asked, throwing the rifle around his back.

"Sure." Flak said, handing one to Donnovan. "That's… 85 caps."

"There ya go." Donnovan placed a handful of caps into Flak's hand. "Business good today?"

"Oh hell yes." Flak grinned.

"We've sold every single G3 we got in." Shrapnel, who was handing Dusk a fragmentation grenade, chimed in.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement, and a hand holding a metal collar flew from the crowd, aiming at Flak's neck. Donnovan reacted quickly, his left hand gripping the attacker's wrist, while his right elbow flew forward, shattering the attacker's arm, bending it the wrong way. There was a horrible scream, and the crowd parted to reveal a scruffy looking man with short hair and a five o'clock shadow stumbling backward, holding his useless arm. The collar clattered to the side as Glade's fist connected with the man's temple, sending him to the ground.

"What the fuck!" Flak yelled. The attacker attempted to get up, but Dusk put her foot on his chest, forcing him back to the ground.

"What the hell was that?" Dusk yelled.

"Go die, bitch!" The man yelled. Donnovan crouched down next to the man, looking at him in the face.

"Alright… Look… Let's try this without breaking anything else, bones or shop materials. I'm Donnovan, what's your name?"

"Dorian." The man said, breathing heavily, looking at the crowd that was forming around them. "I'm Dorian."

"Alright, good. See, this shit can be resolved peacefully." Donnovan nodded as Rivet City Security elbowed their way to Donnovan, Dusk, and Glade.

"This the guy?" Harkness asked.

"Yeah, hold up." Donnovan said. "Why'd you try to put a collar on Flak? That was a slave collar, right? Paradise Falls was pretty much wiped out."

"Yeah, well there are still people paying for slaves." Dorian stated.

"So you go after Flak?" Dusk asked, a note of surprise in her voice.

"Yeah, yeah. I got specific orders."

"We'll follow through on this and let you know." Harkness said, nodding to Glade.

"Thanks. You gonna just lock him up?"

"Yeah, after we ask him some questions." Harkness answered before two Rivet City guards picked the man up and dragged him off. A few seconds of silence followed this scene, before people went back to their business.

"Thanks." Flak said. He picked up the collar and examined it, then handed it to Donnovan. "You recognize this symbol?"

Donnovan looked the collar over and his eyes widened in surprise.

"This… this is a Vault-Tec logo. Since when do they make slave collars!" Donnovan exclaimed.

"Dunno. Maybe it's an old batch." Dusk shrugged.

"Yeah, but that still doesn't answer the question of why the hell they made the collars in the first place." Donnovan said, handing the collar back to Flak.

"We should get back." Glade announced. "Get everything prepped for tomorrow."

"Yeah… Yeah, we should…" Donnovan agreed, following Dusk and Glade to the exit, and taking one last, curious glance back at the collar that Flak was still holding.


	3. Departure

**Part 3 – Departure**

Donnovan awoke the next morning to birds chirping in his ear... or so he thought. His hazy mind slowly came to the realization that he was indoors. Either he was going insane or... He turned his head to find the grinning face of Paladin Kodiak next to him. Instinctively, he punched out, his fist connecting between Kodiak's eyes.

"OW!" Kodiak yelled, his voice muffled as his hands flew up to cover his nose. "You asshole!"

"Jackass," Donnovan sat up angrilly in his cot, "I told you not to do that. I've been paranoid as fuck about that shit since I got back from Point Lookout."

"You didn't have to... Fuck..." Kodiak grumbled. "Knocked me on my ass."

"Whatever, dude. What the hell do you want?" Donnovan stated as he got out of bed. He donned his travelling outfit, consiting of a well-worn duster over a mercenary troublemaker suit, a brown leather baseball hat, and a pair of sunglasses.

"Just kind of a wake up call, that's all." Kodiak stated, getting to his feet, one hand still over his nose. "That really hurt you know."

"Well don't friggin' sneak up on me." Donnovan said. He shouldered his traveling pack and checked his gear. His sniper rifle was packed away in one of the packs one of the brahmin outside were carrying. His AK-47 was slung over his back, and a scoped .44 Magnum, his pride and joy, was in its holster. He glanced at his boot to make sure his combat knife was tucked away, before looking at Kodiak. "Well, either way, man. I guess I'll see you when I get back."

"How long's it gonna take?"

"Well, it's not like we'll be motoring through everything. If we were to just straight-up walk the entire distance, it'd take about five, six months, one way. But we're most likely gonna run into settlements. Besides, Lyons wants us to map the areas we go through... I'd say... 9, 10 months there... About as many months back? I mean, we might as well take a different route. Hell, that's a generous estimate."

"God damn. Over a year and a half, huh? And you still wanna do this?"

"Dude, hell yeah. Are you kidding me? I had a fucking gun to my mouth back in the vault several times, almost pulling the trigger, just out of sheer boredom and because of the feeling of being trapped. My dad leaving literally saved my life. I had a purpose, ya know?"

"So what, if you had nothing to do here after the Enclave thing, you were just gonna kill yourself?" Kodiak looked at Donnovan quizzically.

"No, no. Not at all. I just would've been bored to easily. I like exploring. I just don't like to be couped up." Donnovan explained. "Ironic, isn't it? Being dumped into the Capital Wasteland ended up saving my life."

"No shit." Kodiak laughed.

"Alright man, I'm gonna go meet with the others. It's been fun. See you in a long, long time." Donnovan waved as he left the room. He made his way to the Citadel courtyard, where a light breeze was blowing. Most of the group was assembled just outside the main gate, and several brahmin stood nearby, snorting in the morning air. There were also several Outcast robots. Among them were several protectrons, a robobrain, two sentry bots that were being used as extra gear carriers, and two Mr. Gutsy robots.

"Well, shit. Looks like we're more than ready." Donnovan announced.

"There you are." Dusk nodded at him.

It was strange to see the Outcasts and his fellow Pride members in traveling gear. Some had reluctantly stowed it on the brahmin, but knew regardless, traveling was easier without it. Specialist Olin waved at him as he joined the group.

"So then, we all loaded up?" Rockfowl asked, popping his back.

"Mostly, I think McGraw's just talking to Casdin and Lyons about some last minute things." Rockfowl explained. "We're also waiting on a merc that stopped by. She wanted to join us... Free of charge, funnily enough."

"Huh. She trustworthy?" Donnovan asked.

"She seemed to know you pretty well." Vargas said.

"Uh... That can be bad... Alright… Whatever. Anyway, I was thinking... If we're heading out to explore as well as get into contact with the Brotherhood out west... We need a name for our group."

"Oh, come on. What are you, eight?" Glade shook his head.

"I kind of like the idea." Yearling said, scratching her head.

"Well, we're heading west, right? Leaving from Washington D.C.?" Morgan said. She looked over at Donnovan, who was almost immediately thinking about the same idea as her.

"So... Like a previous journey sent by a certain president, huh?"

"Thomas Jefferson." Morgan stated excitedly. "So... What do you think? Bring some glory back to Lewis and Clark? Are we 'The Corps of Discovery'?"

"Eh, that'd kind of be trampling on their achievements. How about... 'Corps of Rediscovery.'" Donnovan suggested. "Still goes with them, but we're still free to make our own mark." There were murmurs from all around, mostly agreeing. Glade looked like he couldn't care less.

"What do you think, Glade?" Donnovan asked.

Glade yawned hugely.

"Thanks..." Donnovan looked at him with an expression of bored annoyance.

"We're ready." McGraw had come back, and was looking at the assembled group. "We are the Brotherhood again."

"Actually," Morgan came forward, leaning her arm on Donnovan's shoulder. "We're 'The Corps of Rediscovery.'"

"Uh... Sure." McGraw looked confused. Morgan caught Donnovan's eye and they both laughed.

"Hello there!" Came a voice. Donnovan followed it to the source and a huge grin appeared on his face. Walking toward the group was none other than Lucy West, a resident of Megaton, and a close friend of Donnovan's.

Lucy ran over and threw her arms around Donnovan, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Hey!" Lucy practically shouted.

"Long time no see." He smiled as Sydney pulled away. "How ya' doin'?"

"Not bad, you?" Lucy smiled back.

"Wait, it's you they're talking about? Since when are you a merc?"

"Since a month or so ago. It's not bad. Kind of fun. But you would know." She rattled off excitedly.

"Glad you're here," Donnovan smiled.

"Now that the boring part's over," Glade had an all-knowing sort of smile on his face as he turned in the direction the group would be traveling in. "Let's have it!" The gathered group cheered, and they all turned, moving out in a line, organized in threes. They were several yards from the Citadel when there was a yell from behind them.

"Wait, wait!" Sarah Lyons came half-running, half limping towards, them, dragging a huge bag with what undoubtedly contained her power armor.

"Well, well, well." Dusk smiled. She stepped out of her trio, away from McGraw and Cross, to help Sarah with her bag. They managed to secure it on a free spot on one of the sentry bots. "Decided to join us?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't start. I'm gonna get enough of that from Donnovan as it is." She looked forward at where Donnovan was walking, on the right of his trio. Glade was to the left, and Lucy was in the center. She glanced back at Dusk.

"Who's that girl?" Sarah asked.

"Why do you care?" Dusk smiled and ran forward, falling back into step with her group, leaving Sarah to join Vargas and Morrill.

The Corps of Rediscovery traveled on. The Capital Wasteland would soon be far behind them as they ventured into the unknown.

...

It was the end of their first day of travel. They had been moving west-southwest, and the ruins of D.C. were beginning to shrink into the distance. The journey so far had been uneventful, save for the group killing a Yao Guai, and Donnovan and Dusk briefly running at and scaring off a terrified group of mole rats for fun. One had tripped while running down a hill and face-planeted into the ground before straightening up and waddling off with its fellows, causing Dusk, Glade, and Donnovan to double over in laughter, while most of the rest of the group exchanged bored glances.

The expedition had set up camp for the night. Glade had built a fire around which Lucy, Donnovan, Dusk, Rockfowl, Morgan, Morrill, and himself were gathered. Donnovan and Lucy sat on a log, staring into the flames. As the night got colder, Lucy moved closer to Donnovan, leaning against him. He put the blanket he had draped over himself around both of them, and she shifted comfortably. The fire was roaring, illuminating the travelers gathered around it. Rockfowl was sitting closest to the blaze, his hands out toward it. Dusk, meanwhile, was cooking a piece of Yao Guai meat on a skewer. Glade was poking the head of the cut up Yao Guai with a branch.

"So... Tell me... What are you guys thinking? Being back an all?" Glade asked suddenly, addressing the former Outcasts.

"I don't quite know. It feels strange." Morgan admitted. "It still sometimes feels like we are completely different."

"It's been only, what, a day and a half." Dusk offered, not looking away from the meat cooking over the fire. "Give it some time. Besides, during most of this trip, we won't even be Brotherhood. I mean, besides Chicago, there are no other Brotherhood outposts except on the West Coast."

"Good point." Morgan said, craning her head back and looking at the starry sky. She glanced behind her where tents were set up for the expedition. Most of the group was asleep. "I just-… Would you stop that!" Morgan was looking at Glade, who was still absentmindedly poking the animal head.

"Oh. Shit." Glade laughed. "Sorry." He got up, tossed the stick aside, then took a few steps back.

"What… What are you-?" Morgan began.

"Oh Christ." Donnovan snickered as Glade took several steps and swung his foot, punting the monster's head several feet. It bounced into the darkness, out of sight. Glade then turned and sat down, as if he had done nothing more than stretch.

"I.. Uh." Rockfowl began, trying to keep from laughing at the scene he had just witnessed and attempting to clear his mind. "I didn't like it." Rockfowl spoke up. "But… I didn't really agree with the shift from finding technology. It wasn't as big of a deal as the others made it out to be." Morrill looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, it's just my opinion." Rockfowl added.

"Your opinion on everything is, 'no big deal'," Morgan said, leaning forward a bit, watching as Dusk flipped the meat over. "That any good? We've killed plenty of Yao Guai, but never really tried eating them."

"It's not bad. Kind of makes your stomach feel a bit queasy, sometimes, but if it's cooked right, it's alright." Dusk explained. "You can try some of this once it's done."

"Sure." Morgan agreed.

"You all still awake?" Vargas yawned, walking up to the group.

"How the hell are you sleepy already?" Dusk asked him, looking away from the food cooking in front of her.

"Eh. I don't know. I was thinking too much about the journey, last night." Vargas sat himself on the ground near Morrill, who was examining a map.

"Looks like we're right on the edge of known territory right now." He announced.

"Nice. The real exploration starts tomorrow." Lucy stated. Morrill nodded.

"I'm thinking we should get an early start tomorrow." He suggested. "It would be good to cover a bit more ground the first few days. What do you all think?"

"Sounds good." Dusk nodded, sliding the cooked piece of meat onto a plate and cutting off a bit with her knife. "Here." She tossed the piece to Morgan, who took a bite off of it cautiously, and chewed.

"Huh. Not bad at all." Morgan looked surprised.

"You'll wanna keep from eating too much of it at once, if you've never had it before." Dusk warned.

"Alright. This'll do for tonight. I'm going to turn in anyway." Morgan popped the rest of the food into her mouth, then stood up. She said her goodbyes and disappeared into her tent.

"Anyone have any objections to the plan?" Morrill asked.

"Not really. The more ground the better, I say." Donnovan shrugged. He looked out into the direction the Corps would set off in tomorrow. "Out in the wastes again. Unknown territory." He turned back to face the group. "With a familiar, mostly friendly group." He smiled. "This is what life's all about."


	4. Depravity

**4 – Depravity**

The group awoke early the next morning and pressed on quickly, as Morrill had suggested. They had been traveling without incident for several miles, when a large, dilapidated mansion rose out of the ground in the distance. The expedition hung back, while Dusk and Donnovan were set up on a hill, both looking through the scopes of their rifles, examining every inch of the mansion.

"Well… I see an old tripwire." Dusk said.

"Where?" Donnovan asked, panning his rifle across the building.

"Look about five feet ahead of the front door. See that mailbox?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. There's the line. Looks old, though."

"Just might mean someone got the hint and stopped coming around here."

"I dunno…" Donnovan said. "I still think we should check it out."

"Alright… I'm staying out here, though." Dusk said. "Anyone going inside should probably put armor on… Who the hell knows what's in there."

"Good call." Donnovan turned and wave for the group to move forward. They stopped just behind the hill, still out of sight as he strode over to them.

"What's the plan?" Yearling asked.

"We're gonna check the house out." Donnovan said, dragging his power armor off one of the Brahmin. "Lucy, you wanna help Dusk spot?"

"Sure." Lucy said, grabbing a pair of binoculars and jogging over to Dusk.

"Vargas, breaching and clearing's your thing, right?"

"Yeah, want me to lead?" He asked, also grabbing his power armor pack.

"Please do." Donnovan nodded. "This is your area of expertise."

"So… I take it Donnovan's in… I need two more volunteers." Vargas said, looking at the group. Cross raised her hand, as did a few others, including, somewhat reluctantly, Sarah. "Cross and… Uh… Lyons." They began strapping into their power armor.

"Alright." Vargas said, adjusting his helmet. "The rest of you, take positions along the rocks, or something you can hide behind. Only Dusk has permission to fire freely. The rest of you, wait for a command." The assembled group nodded. "Okay, my group, let's go."

Vargas led the way down the hill, leaning back so as not to fall forward. Dust rose and a few rocks rolled down the hill in the wake of the four travelers' descent. Donnovan briefly moved ahead and disconnected the trip wire trap that Dusk had pointed out a few minutes before. He looked up on the ridge where Dusk and Lucy were. Her hand was raised in a thumbs up. She then put her eye to the scope of her rifle, and pulled the bolt back.

"Alright. Stack up. Donnovan, second left, Sarah, right. Cross, you're right behind Donnovan." Vargas commanded in a loud whisper. The group did as they were told, ready. Vargas put his hand on the door handle, and twisted. It was unlocked, surprisingly, and the group entered the house quietly. There was no resistance, and they found themselves in a dust-filled hall.

"All clear." Vargas called. The group repeated his words. A voice could be heard, drifting through the house, followed by a low chanting. The group exchanged glances before slowly moving down the hall in formation. The hall emptied into a living room, except it looked more like a chapel.

Pews were lined in perfectly, with many people sitting in them, their heads bowed, hidden under hoods. Tapestries displaying strange icons hung on the walls, and in the front of the room, a small stage was set up. A man in white robes flecked with red and yellow dots stood, his arms raised, his head also hidden by a hood. Behind him, a body was nailed to a cross, the man's stomach cut open, his intestines hanging out. Vargas gagged briefly, but managed to keep from throwing up.

"And through the strength of the transitional dead, we shall find our salvation." The man in the front called out. He had a loud, carrying voice.

"We shall find our salvation." The entire congregation repeated.

"This is kind of impressive…" Sarah stated.

"Yeah, in the creepy cult sort of way." Donnovan added. "Look at that corpse."

"Ah! Do we have new members to our flock?" The man turned, his face still concealed in shadow.

"Not quite. We apologize for intruding. We are only travelers passing through." Vargas called to the leader.

"That is quite alright. Curiosity is the gift of God."

"Uh… Sure." Vargas said. "We'll… just be leaving now."

"Please, stay and observe for a minute." The leader stated, and motioned for one of the people in the crowd. The figure walked over to the intestines hanging from the body nailed to the wall, and kneeled down. "Our practices will help us attain salvation. Go ahead, Jonathan." The follower, Jonathan, reached out, grabbed one of the intestines hanging down, and unexpectedly took a large bite out of it.

"Oh Christ." Vargas turned back into the hall, ripped off his helmet, and puked. Everyone else was horrified.

"Did… Did he just-?" Donnovan was about to ask, when the body on the wall gave a terrible groan of pain.

"He's ALIVE!" Sarah yelled.

"Yes, the creator provides us with passing sacrifices." The leader explained calmly.

"You're fucking sick!" Donnovan said, aghast. "Put the poor bastard out of his misery if you're going to be practicing rituals like that!"

"The sacrifice must be in transit to the next life in order for the effect to be complete." The leader stated.

"Kill him now, or we will." Cross threatened.

"I am sorry, but we cannot." The leader began. "We-"

*BANG*

A singe round from Donnovan's AK-47 dug into the body's head, killing the sacrifice. In unison, all of the figures heads turned to look at the travelers. It was extremely unsettling to the group, and they all gripped their weapons tightly, Vargas rapidly putting his helmet back on, coughing as he did so.

"You have destroyed the sacrifice!" The leader yelled, his eyes wide. "You will become the new one!" He pulled his hood down to reveal an extremely disfigured face. One eye was missing, and his skin was pale, stretched tight across his skull. His shallow cheeks were stretched thin as he yelled. "String them up, my family. We must honor the Lord and Savior!" The congregation stood up and with a deafening roar, surged towards the group of travelers.

"Shit! OPEN FIRE! Targets free!" Varags yelled. The volley of bullets from the group tore into the charging cultists, the front few falling. As they did so, a window to the right burst open, and the deafening roar of Eugene could be heard, as the rounds pouring from the minigun toppled the cultists like wheat to a scythe.

Donnovan's rifle ran out, and a silence filled the air. Dust and pieces of paper floated to the floor, and the smell of sulfur mixed with blood lingered in the air. No one dared to speak, until Sarah bravely broke the silence.

"Wow… Just wow."

"Well _that_ went well." Donnovan said. He walked over to the window and looked out. Glade stood there at the ready, holding Eugene, the barrels of which were smoking. "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem. I figured you guys might want backup after I saw how many people were inside through that damn window. I-"

"IN THE NAME OF THE LORD, DIE!" the leader, bloodied and bruised, screamed, rising from the pile of bodies, holding a massive warhammer. He swung back, and in the distance, a loudcrack of a rifle could be heard. A quick gust of air flew inches from Donnovan's head. A bullet dug into the man's chest, which, combined with his weight thrown back by the warhammer, slammed him onto the pile of bodies. Donnovan and Glade were frozen in shock, until Glade turned in the direction of a hill, on which Donnovan could see Dusk and Lucy perched.

"Are you fucking crazy!" Glade screamed. "You could've killed me!"

"You're welcome, assholes!" came Dusk's distant reply. He whirled back around. Donnovan walked back over to his group. "Now what?"

"We might as well take a look around now." Vargas suggested. "Not like these people will make use of anything here now."

"Alright." Sarah said. "I'll check the upstairs."

"I'll come with you." Cross said, and the two women disappeared into the back hallways.

"Watch yourselves," Vargas called after them.

"I'll check the kitchen." Donnovan said, and followed the halls of the mansion, passing by side rooms and closets, until he arrived at his destination. His mind was still thinking about what had just happened. He, along with a few others, had gunned down a massive group of unarmed people… After witnessing one of them eat the organs of a still living man. He'd seen cannibalism in the Wasteland, but not like this. His thoughts were interrupted as the floorboard made a hollow sound. He stopped and looked at his feet. A brief line could be seen, separating a part of the floor. He bent down and examined it, his gloved hands brushing the dust off of what was unmistakably a trap door. He found a small dent in the boards, and managed to remove a piece of wood on the door, revealing a small latch. He wrenched the door open, and flipped on his helmet light, revealing a set of stone steps leading down. Yet again, he heard voices, this time extremely close by. These voices, however, were exclamations of pain and misery. His hands found a light switch, and he flipped it on. The lights came on in the room, and Donnovan blanched at the sight in front of him. Splayed out all across the stone floor were ten extremely skinny, living skeletons of former human beings, both men and women, moaning in pain. They looked as if they had been down here for a long time. Their emaciated bodies could barely move, and they couldn't even drag themselves across the floor. They just lay there, groaning in agony. Their dry, empty eyes looked at Donnovan. Most of them gasped in fear, attempting to move away from him with what strength they had. One of them, however, seemed to show recognition in his face.

"Br… Br… Brotttthhherhooood." He managed to rasp. "Brothhhhherhood…"

Donnovan couldn't speak. He simply nodded at the man addressing him, while the others still looked on in horror.

"Killl…." The man rasped. "Kill ussss. Please…. Agony… Pain…. Can't fix… us…"

Donnovan just stood there, rooted in place. This was beyond suffering. This was an existence of pure agony caused by the depths of human depravity. These emaciated figures reminded him of pictures of the Holocaust he had read about back in the Vault. His mind was reeling as he stared at the scene.

"Killl. Please… Hurt…" The man said. Finally, with massive regret, Donnovan replaced the clip in his AK-47. Seeing this, another of the prisoners nodded, motioning to herself. Though he had his helmet on, a single tear ran down Donnovan's cheek as he lifted his rifle, aiming at the head of the man addressing him.

"Bless… you…" The man choked. Donnovan simply nodded as he squeezed the trigger.

*BLAM*

The gunshot seemed to echo for an eternity as the man's head hit the floor, hard. Still choked up, Donnovan stepped to another prisoner, aiming at her head. She nodded, putting her hands together, pleading him. He squeezed the trigger.

*BLAM*

The process repeated itself…

*BLAM*

And with every gunshot…

*BLAM*

The battle-hardened Donnovan twitched…

*BLAM*

A pang of pain hit his heart…

*BLAM*

As each of the prisoners were killed…

*BLAM*

Time seemed to slow…

*BLAM*

As each life was extinguished…

*BLAM*

Each shot more disturbing than the last…

*BLAM*

The last prisoner died, and Donnovan hung his head, looking at their bodies. He turned and marched back up the stairs, trying with all of his might to keep his nerves together. As he exited the trap door, Vargas, Cross, and Sarah had run into the kitchen.

"What happened?" Sarah asked. Donnovan simply walked past the group, unable to speak, his heart heavy. His eyes welling up with tears, he shoved open the doors to the mansion. Instead of going back to the group, he headed to the right, out of sight of the expedition. He wrenched off his helmet and dropped it onto the ground, a small cloud of dust rising in its wake. He pressed one hand against the side of the mansion, leaned his forehead against the wall, and began to weep openly.


	5. Revelation

**Part 5 –Revelation**

The group scavenged what they could from the mansion. Donnovan refused to enter it again, however, and simply helped secure the travelling packs, asking Glade to check every corner of the mansion for any other prisoners. After none were found, and they were finished loading the Brahmin and sentry bots up, they traveled two miles west of the mansion, and made camp for the night. This time, there was not much talking. Most people went right to sleep. Donnovan attempted to get some rest as well, but his mind was still spinning with the events that had occurred. Even in times like this, how could people treat each other that way? Had humanity learned nothing from history? He lay on his back, eyes open, staring at the top of his tent. This could not be an isolated incident, cults like these. Donnovan suddenly sat bolt upright. If there were more groups like these, they need to be wiped out. If this new, depraved form of religion is truly catching on, perhaps they had connections to other "churches" following the same rituals. Perhaps he could find something that would tell him where other churches were located. Donnovan immediately climbed out of his sleeping bag, and donned his traveling gear. Making sure his AK-47 was loaded, he opened the tent flap and peered outside. A small fire was burning, and McGraw, Cross, and Yearling sat around it, talking. Donnovan slipped out of his tent and, when he was far enough away from the camp, broke into a light jog back in the direction of the mansion, his mind buzzing with ideas the whole way.

It seemed to take an eternity, but Donnovan finally made it to the open doors of the mansion. He flipped on the flashlight attachment on his AK-47 and entered the mansion. He could still see the images of the emaciated men and women in his mind. He walked to the room where he and the others had slaughtered the cultists. Their bodies were still there, and the smell of death filled the room. Donnovan pulled a bandana out of one of his pockets and tied it around his mouth and nose, then stepped into the room, looking for the body of the leader. He made his way across the corpses, one or two giving sickening crunches as he stepped on a hand or arm bone, breaking it. His light finally shined upon the blood-specked robe bottoms of the cult leader. Thanks to the gunfight, the lights had been shot out.

Donnovan stepped forward, shining his light up the man's body and into his face. His eye was open, and reflected back, making Donnovan jump. He took a minute to calm down, remembering that the man had been killed by Dusk, who never missed. He then patted the body down, looking for anything that would tell him more about the organization. The house was eerily silent save for the creaking of floorboards.

Through the robes, his fingers felt a small, metal ring. Moving the robes up, he found a metal key ring, with three keys on it. He checked around the room out of instinct, though no one was there, and ripped the keyring from the man's belt. He examined the keys under the light attachment of his rifle. Two were in relatively good condition, while one was very beaten up. He tucked the keys away, then picked up his rifle and walked across the corpse-stacked room to an adjacent doorway. He found himself in a long hall, a staircase in the distance. He eventually made his way to and up the staircase, finding himself in a landing with several doors leading to bedrooms. The nearby door was closed, a large padlock keeping it shut. Using the keys he had picked up from the cult leader's body, he found that one of the cleaner looking ones worked. He slipped the lock out of its hold and tossed it aside.

He panned the flashlight in front of him, and ended up looking at an immaculate bedroom. A large bookshelf was the first thing Donnovan noticed, and he walked over to it, putting his finger across the books as he read off the most random collection of authors he'd ever seen.

"_Dawkins, LaHaye, Lewis… Darwin!… What the… That's one hell of a mix…"_ he thought. He turned around, his light causing something on a nearby desk to glint. Donnovan shined the light back at it, and came closer. Several metal collars lay haphazardly on the desk, most appearing to be used. Donnovan picked one up, and realized it was similar in construction to the one that the man named Dorian had attempted to put on Flak back in the Rivet City Market. He turned it, and sure enough, found the Vault-Tec logo engraved on it. He took his pack off, set it next to the desk, and shoved all of the collars into it. This mansion was extremely unsettling, and he wanted to check the rest of the room and get out, fast. He shined the light across the room, and at the foot of a large bed, his light found a trunk, one that Donnovan attempted to open, but couldn't. He tried the older looking key, and it didn't work. The only untested key clicked in the lock, and Donnovan pushed the trunk open. Inside were a series of scrolls and a thick, black, leather-bound book. Donnovan took the scrolls, and was about to start reading them, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut. He hastily stowed the scrolls in his backpack, then grabbed the book from the trunk and tossed it in as well. He then quietly closed the lid of the trunk, shouldered his pack, and exited the room, turning off his flashlight.

"What happened here!" He heard an extremely raspy voice gasp.

"Everyone's dead!" Another voice, this one human, stated. "Who the hell did this?"

"They weren't a bunch of thugs, that's for sure. Look at the bullet shells. All of a good caliber." A third voice announced.

"You think there was more than one?" the raspy voice asked.

"Oh no… Azazel! He's… He's dead!"

"His keys… They're gone!"

Donnovan's survival instincts immediately took over as he heard footfalls running towards the staircase. He sank into the shadows of a nearby room, which he found to be a pantry, in time to see a figure come thundering up the stairs holding a flashlight. He skidded to a halt by the room of the leader, apparently named Azazel. The man lingered outside the doorstep of the room.

"Forgive me, great leader." The man said, before he stepped into Azazel's room and flipped on the light switch. Donnovan now was glad he didn't notice this, as the lights would've given him away. After several minutes of searching, a deafening cry was heard throughout the house.

"They're gone! OUR SCRIPTURES ARE GONE!" The voice bellowed. Two more sets of footsteps could be heard, and two more figures sprinted into Azazel's room, out of sight. "So are the necklaces of persuasion!"

"_Necklaces of what, now! These guys are out of their fucking minds."_ Donnovan thought to himself, tilting his head out of the pantry doorway, watching the bedroom with one eye.

"Where's our book?" The raspy voice asked with a tone of absolute despair. "Where's the Shothbarnir!"

For the first time in a very long time., Donnovan felt a chill go down his spine. Something about that name was familiar. Something from his past… Then it hit him. He had read that in the inside page of the Krivbeknih, along with several other titles. That book, the Krivbeknih, couldn't have been the only one. Marcella had referred to the Krivbeknih as "a book" with dark power. A book. One. There had to be more. Marcella had come to spread the word of God in Point Lookout, and was killed for what she found. The Swampfolk there had formed a cult around the book. Donnovan felt another chill, and the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The prayers, the cult, the intestines used in Swampfolk rituals both in Point Lookout, and here in this mansion… The Krivbeknih must have been only one of a collection. He couldn't think on this anymore, he had to get out of this place before he was discovered. Slowly, he began moving out of the pantry and towards the staircase, but luck was not with him. The moment he was too far from the pantry to hide in, the three figures stepped out, and upon seeing him, froze. One flipped on a light switch in the halls, and Donnovan got a good luck at the three men.

All three were wearing similar clothes as the dead cultists downstairs, except their hoods were back. One, a ghoul, was staring at Donnovan.

"And who are you that encroaches in our sacred temple?" The ghoul asked.

"No one…" Donnovan stated. He had stowed his AK-47 on his back, but his hand hovered near his holstered .44 magnum.

"I ask you again." The ghoul commanded. "Who are you, and do you follow the word?" One of the other cultists suddenly reached into his robes, and Donnovan instinctively reacted. His revolver was raised and he fired three quick shots from his hip. All three found their marks. The ghoul cultist rolled down the staircase, while the other two were pitched back. One crumpled into a corner while the other fell back into Azazel's room, groaning.

Revolver still raised, he carefully checked the pulse of the cultist who had fallen outside the room. He was dead. Donnovan moved on to Azazel's room, where the second cultist was dragging himself away from the door, leaving a thick swath of blood across the floorboards.

"The Lord will protect me." He coughed, spitting up blood. "The internal flesh of his transitional sacrifices has made me strong!"

"What the hell is the Shothbarnir? Tell me."

"My faith keeps me strong!"

"TELL ME!"

"In the face of non-believers, I will triumph!"

"Fuck you, then." Donnovan said, and started down the stairs, he could still hear the man yelling.

"I will be cleansed in a righteous fire!" The man's voice carried as Donnovan stepped over the dead ghoul, and walked through the chapel, into the kitchen.

"I'll give you righteous fire, you sick fuck!" Donnovan yelled. He grabbed several kitchen towels and tossed them on the heating coil of the oven, then turned it onto the highest setting. He then walked up to the kitchen chair, and kicked at a leg, breaking it off. Using his lighter and curtains from the kitchen window, he managed to set the leg aflame, and began marching through the house, setting fire to everything he could reach. The mansion was old and extremely dry, helping the fire to spread quickly. Donnovan walked into the chapel where all of the bodies were.

"I hope you rot in hell, you piece of shit!" Donnovan called, then tossed the torch onto the pile of bodies. It set Azazel's robes on fire, and the flames began to spread. Donnovan turned and quickly left the building, walking out into the night. He made it up to the ridge near the mansion and sat himself down, waiting. It took a good hour, but eventually, the entire mansion was burning. The massive blaze lit up the night, sending huge plumes of smoke into the air that probably could be seen back in D.C., and most definitely could be seen from the camp. As Donnovan watched the flames slowly consume the mansion, a feeling of calm came to him, something he had not felt since he killed the prisoners in the basement of that house. He stood up and spit.

"Karma's a bitch." He said aloud. With that, he turned and made his way back to camp.

…

"The fuck just happened?" Glade asked, mouth open as Donnovan came back into the camp, the mansion still burning strong in the distance. The entire camp was awake, looking in the direction of the fire.

"Did some cleaning."

"Jesus, what happened?" Sarah gaped.

"Grab Dusk and meet me in my tent." Donnovan told Glade as he marched past. Glade did as he was told, and several minutes later, all three of them were sitting in Donnovan's tent, the scrolls rolled out in front of them, the book in the center, as Donnovan finished telling the story.

"This is all in some weird-ass language." Dusk said. "I can't make out a single word."

"I can't tell either. Maybe you shouldn't have killed all three of them." Glade suggested sarcastically.

"The last one wouldn't have made it back alive. Hell, even if he would've, he wouldn't have said a damn thing."

"So it's in more than one area, huh?" Glade asked.

"Oh, check this shit out." Donnovan pulled a slave collar out of his backpack and handed it to Glade.

"That looks like the one back in Rivet City." Dusk said.

"Exactly." Donnovan said. "I heard the cultists call them 'necklaces of persuasion'."

"So we've got a Shothbarnir, whatever the hell that means, 'necklaces of persuasion', and a bunch of incomprehensible scrolls…" Dusk counted on her fingers. "This is weird."

"It's a god damn cult. I saw the same thing when I was in Point Lookout. Look, guys..." Donnovan leaned forward. "We have to wipe out any of these so called 'churches' as we go if we so much as catch word of one. These people are fucking evil."

"Burning down churches? Christ, and here I thought you knew your history." Glade said.

"I do. But these aren't exactly peaceful worshipers we're talking about here. These are followers of some convoluted cult. You saw the bodies in the basement. That's unforgivable."

Dusk nodded.

"Fuck it, why not." Glade said. "As long as there are a few less scumbags on the earth, I'm happy."

"I have a feeling it's going to be far more than 'a few', my friend." Donnovan sighed.


	6. Portents

**6 - Portents**

The group traveled on for days, not seeing much of anything except for dry land. The land became more arid as they traveled further west and traded with the few caravans they came across. Eventually, as a huge dust storm began to kick up, the outline of a metal-walled town came into their view. The rest of the group stayed back while Cross and Morrill examined the town from a distance.

"Good. Hopefully they have somewhere we can wait out this storm." Morrill said, looking through his binoculars. "A day or two of rest will do us some good, especially Donnovan. I'm started to get concerned."

"About what?" Cross asked.

"He has been very different since that mansion. He still has his sense of humor, but his eyes are different… Dead, almost."

"He'll be fine."

"Are you certain?"

"More than certain. I've fought side by side with him through many horrors. We both saw people torn apart at Old Olney."

"This seems quite a bit more serious."

"It is. But I'm telling you, all that will happen is he will become more focused."

"Yes, but not on our mission."

"He will not get in the way. He'll help. Just expect him to go wandering off every once in a while to wipe out these cults as he finds them."

"I can expect Glade and Dusk to go with him, can't I? Those three are practically joined at the hip."

"They're not the only ones." Cross stated, hinting at herself. "But yes, those three are very close. It's our friendships that keep us going in times like these."

"Well… We might as well move forward and see what this settlement has to offer." Morrill said, changing the subject. He turned and motioned for the group, and the expedition moved forward, towards the town.

As they got closer to the town, a set of metal doors and a watchtower came into view, and soon after, a voice called to them.

"HALT!"

Morrill put his hand up and clenched his fist, signaling for the group to stop. Most did immediately. Someone, however, was not watching the Brahmin, and one took several extra steps, shoving into Donnovan and sending him face forward into the dirt. He turned around and angrily stared at the two-headed cow from the ground. One of the heads had been chewing on something, and it froze, staring at him. Several seconds later, it continued chewing, eyes still stupidly fixed on Donnovan. He couldn't help but smile at the idiocy of the event, and as he picked himself up, he shoved Glade, who was openly laughing. Morrill shot them an annoyed glance before he turned to the watchtower and the barely discernable shape standing in it. "Who are you and what is your business near New Columbus?" The figure yelled.

"We are travelers. We are looking for a place to wait out this storm, possibly do some trading."

"We have plenty of both." The shape yelled. "But you don't much look like a trade caravan. You look more like a war party."

"In a manner of speaking, there is some truth to that."

"So why should I let you in?"

"Because we have plenty of currency to spend."

"… Alright…" The man said. With a loud screech that sent chills down the spines of almost everyone in the party, the doors parted, revealing a dust-choked street, where figures of people ran back and forth between buildings. "Come in. We do have our eyes on you."

"Thank you." Morrill called, then turned to McGraw and shrugged.

"Strange, but we've seen stranger." McGraw commented. With that, the group made their way inside the town. As Vargas and Morgan, who were bringing up the rear, entered, the doors closed behind them. The man in the watchtower climbed down and walked up to the group. His face was hidden by a bandana that he was obviously using to protect against the dust.

"If you are looking for a place to stay and store your pack animals and robots, you'll want to go to the saloon. You'll want to rent out a garage for your carriers, though, if you don't want your Brahmin to die and your 'bots to get buried."

"Alright. Is that also the best place to get some information?" McGraw asked.

"Yes. Anything else?" the man asked rather curtly.

"No, thank you." McGraw said. The group kept moving down the street of the town. Wooden buildings lined both sides of the only street, and people walked about their business. The town reminded Donnovan of the towns of the Old West he had read about in the history books back in Vault 101. As they moved, Donnovan looked up in the windows, noticing that people were staring at them, many of them holding guns. The group stopped in-front of an old-looking, four-story, wooden building with a huge, dirty sign proclaiming "Armstrong Ales Saloon."

"I'm going to head in and see if I can't get those keys." McGraw stated.

"I'll go with you." Donnovan said, stepping forward.

"Yeah, same here." Vargas agreed. The three of them entered the dark saloon. It was dim, but looked relatively clean. All sorts of cowboy paraphernalia hung on the walls, and Donnovan counted at least a dozen cowboy hats on the heads of various bar patrons. Donnovan was uncomfortably aware of everyone in the bar looking at them. They made their way up to the counter, where a one-eyed bartender looked them over.

"What can I getcha?"

"A garage key, please." Vargas said.

"Small, medium, large?"

"Large, please." McGraw said. "We have several carriers."

"Tha's fifty a night."

"Here you go. And for tomorrow night in advance as well, in case we stay." McGraw said, dropping a bag of cap on the counter.

"Here y' are." The man said, handing a key over.

"I'll be back." McGraw told the other two before disappearing out the doors. The wind was now howling furiously.

"Where y'all headed?" The bartender asked.

"Out west." Vargas answered.

"Y'all a trading caravan?" The man continued.

"No sir. Just travelers." Donnovan stated.

"Ever been this way before?"

"Some of us traveled this way when heading to D.C." Vargas stated. "But we went through the rocky crags, so I hear."

"Still the only real way ta get across." The man nodded.

"What do you mean, 'real way'?" Donnovan asked. The man paused.

"Y'all don't know 'bout Hellfire Crater?"

"No sir." Donnovan said.

"Yeah, I've heard about it. When the Br- our group," Vargas said, catching herself, "traveled this way, they avoided it because of the radiation."

"Rad'yaishun?" The old man scoffed. "There ain't no rad'yashun thataway. Just death."

"What?" Morgan looked confused.

"Look here, sonny." The man said. Vargas looked as if in any other situation, he would've taken the man's head off for this. "There are only three ways ta get across this here area. Ya'll can either go south, but that's very irradiated down there. Nothing 'cept them ghouls can survive in that area for more than an hour."

"How far's that area stretch?" Donnovan asked.

"It's not too big, but it's dangerous." The man said. "And just enough in th' way to make trade from the west real slow."

"I see. And the other areas?"

"Well, ya got the rocky passes that everyone takes. Week-long trip. Borin' as all hell." The man spoke as if he were finished.

"Hold on, what about the third one, Hellfire Crater, right?" Donnovan asked. The man paused for a moment.

"Everyone that's gone in there ain't never came back." The man said. "It's a canyon, 'bout 20 miles across. It was already kind of a valley before tha war. A cluster of them nu-cue-lea-ar bombs fell, and carved it out some more. We've had a few caravans working for the Crimson Caravan Company try ta take shortcuts. Well, I ask their names so I can ask other caravans that pass through here. No one never hears from anyone who goes in there, again."

"What's down there?"

"No one's sure." The man said. "A few people in town have gone at most, a mile, maybe too. They just see shadows and skeletons."

"Shadows? What, is visibility bad?" Vargas asked.

"Ya know that dust storm you folks just came in from? It's that, nonstop down in tha crater."

"So why would people go that way?"

"Well, if it weren't so dangerous, you could get through the area in one day and be on your way. The trip through the rocks takes 'bout a week because of the terrain."

"One day, huh?"

"I can't count how many times I've said this: 'don' do it'. We just had a caravan belonging to th' Crimsons and a few travelers go in there two days ago. Shame too, had a pretty, young, dark-haired girl with them."

"So… You said you just see shadows down there?" Vargas asked.

"I said that others saw shadows down there." The man said. "I didn't see anything. I ain't dumb enough to go down there." He turned and spit into a silver spittoon near his feet. "Don't take no genius to know it's dangerous."

"Uh…" was all Donnovan managed to say. The rest of the expedition came into the saloon behind him and sat down at several tables closer to the corner.

"They with y'all?" The bartender nodded his head at the others.

"Yes." Vargas said. "Can… Uh… Can I get a beer?"

"Same here, please." Donnovan said. The two paid for their drinks then sat down.

"Everyone hurry up and get something, then sit down. You all need to hear this." Vargas announced. After everyone had something to drink in front of them, Vargas and Donnovan told everyone what the bartender had warned them about.

"A full day, versus six weeks, huh?" Morrill rubbed his chin.

"Yeah, but everyone who has gone in, hasn't come out." Lucy said.

"That could just be a legend they use to scare people off, though." Dusk suggested.

"Yeah, maybe they hide some supplies there, or something, and don't want people going that way." Yearling added.

"I don't know, the guy looked really serious." Donnovan stated.

"No one comes out, freaky shadows, skeletons, and a constant sandstorm?" Olin exhaled. "I don't like it."

"All those reasons you listed seem like overblown scares to me." Morgan shrugged.

"Yeah, seems a bit too

"We're split, apparently." Cross stated. "Shall we solve this democratically?"

"I like the idea. Anyone object?" McGraw asked. Everyone shook their heads.

"I'm… gonna stay out of this one." Rockfowl announced, leaning back.

"Alright…" McGraw stated. "So… The cliffs or the crater. Those for the cliffs, raise your hands."

Donnovan, Glade, Olin, Cross, and Lucy all raised their hands.

"Alright, five. Those for going through the crater." McGraw said.

He, Morgan, Dusk, Morrill, Vargas, Sarah, and Yearling raised their hands.

"Seven."

"Well shit…" Donnovan said, "outvoted."

"I'm warning you all one last time, you will die." The bartender appeared behind them. "If we only wanted you to die because of supplies or to take yer shit, we'd kill ya here in town. We've got more than enough people." Everyone was silent. "But looks like yer set on going through there. May god, President Eden, or whoever ya wan'ta pray to protect ya, because we'll never be seeing you again.

"Thank you for the warning, but we will go through regardless." McGraw told him. "Do you have rooms available?"

"Yeh. Plenty."

"We'd like a few." Morrill said.

"Alright, come with me to th' counter. We'll work it all out."

Morrill nodded to Cross, who stood up, and they followed the bartender back to the bar.

The rest of the group sat for a while longer, still debating their decision. Slowly the conversation wound down, as everyone retired to the rooms they rented. Eventually, only Donnovan and Glade were left sitting at the table.

"Lucy's sharing a room with me, I think." Donnovan was saying.

"You two always been close?" Glade asked, taking a swig of his beer.

"Kind of. Off and on fuck-buddies, but not much beyond that." Donnovan admitted.

"Ah… So what do you think, man?" Glade asked. "I'm really starting to feel nervous."

"You're never nervous… About anything…" Donnovan said, genuinely shocked. Glade was always the cool-headed one of the group, never letting fear or excitement take over his feelings.

"I know… I.. I really don't like this. I just have a terrible feeling about it."

"You and me both, man," Donnovan said, finishing his beer. "I'm gonna head up. Night, dude."

"G'night." Glade said, still sitting at the table.

Donnovan entered his dark room and locked it. He walked over to the bed, his mind on the upcoming trip, and tossed his overcoat onto a nearby chair. He ran his hands through his hair, took off the rest of his traveling gear, and lay down in the bed.

"Hey." Said a voice. He looked up and Lucy stepped out of the shadows, wearing sleepwear.

"Still awake?"

"Yeah, I was waiting on you." Lucy said slyly. She unhooked a shoulder strap, letting the dress fall to the floor, revealing her body. "It might be our last night alive. I don't wanna die without getting laid one last time."

"Who am I to deny a woman what she wants?" Donnovan snickered as he stripped off his underwear and Lucy climbed into bed and onto him, pressing her lips to his as he put his arms around her.


	7. Descent

**Part 7 – Descent**

Donnovan awoke early the next morning, immediately got dressed, and went downstairs to the bar floor. No one was present save for an extremely bored looking female bartender, who was resting her head on one hand, leaning against the wall. Donnovan walked to the doors of the saloon and peered outside. The dust storm had settled slightly, and the streets were significantly clearer. He watched the streets for several minutes, his mind on the upcoming trip through Hellfire Crater. His musings were interrupted by someone coming into the bar, and Donnovan realized he should probably see what the group's plan was. As he was walking back to the stairs, Vargas appeared, coming down them, his power armor on.

"This is as good as it's going to get, according to the locals." He stated, pointing outside. "They said that we can expect a stronger one tonight. One that'll last for a few days."

"So if we don't wanna get stranded, we get the hell out of dodge, now?" Donnovan asked.

"Yes."

"Alright. The others know?"

"I just knocked on everyone's door and let them know." Vargas nodded.

"Alright. I'll go get geared up." Donnovan stated, walking up the stairs.

"I left your armor by your door." Vargas called up after him.

Donnovan turned and entered his room to find Lucy adjusting the shoulder strap of her traveling clothes. She had a long-sleeved shirt on under her gear, and a pair of gloves with long wrist protectors lay on a nearby dresser.

"What's that for?" He asked.

"Unlike you, I can't wear power armor." Lucy glanced back at him. "I've gotta make sure every bit of skin is covered so I don't get sand everywhere."

"Right." Donnovan stated, sitting on the bed and began to clasp into his power armor boots.

Several minutes later, he and Lucy were downstairs with the rest of the group. Vargas and Morrill were running through their gear and carriers outside. After it was determined that everything was where it should be, the group all filed out of the bar into the dust storm outside. Yearling, Lucy, and Olin wore bandanas and goggles to cover their faces. The group slowly moved down the town to the side opposite of the one they had come in, until they reached a similar metal gate.

"Whoa, whoa…" The gate guard walked up to them. "You do realize this leads straight down into Hellfire Cr-"

"Yeah, we know." Dusk sighed. "We've been warned several hundred times already, so please, just open the damn gate."

The guard looked them over, shrugged, then made a signal up to a nearby watchtower. With another loud, uncomfortable screech, the doors pulled opened, revealing rocky outcroppings on both sides, and a large, single pathway between them leading straight down. No more than twenty feet down the slope, all that could be seen was a wall of sand and dust.

"Are we sure about this?" Glade asked.

"Doesn't matter, does it? We did take a vote, did we not?" Morrill stated.

"I guess." Glade said. It was obvious he was still nervous.

"Well, what are we standing around for? Let's go!" McGraw, who was leading the group, stated. He motioned with his hand, and the expedition slowly began its trek down. No more than a minute in, and Donnovan already knew that there had to be some truth to the stories. Anything more than three feet by his face, he could barely make out. The storm swirled endlessly, and he could barely hear the other's commands over the sound of sand grains bouncing off of his helmet, and the never-ending howl of the wind. The expedition was forced to grip each other's shoulders to stay together. The downward slope eventually ended, and the group moved out over flat ground. This was tougher than any of them had expected, as the ground, as far as they could feel, was all sand.

McGraw was leading them forward using a compass, the only means of telling which way they were going. The bartender had mentioned that the exit of the crater was west-south west of the entrance, so the group had decided to make a direct line there. Hours went by, and Donnovan began to feel boredom sinking in.

_"Christ. Maybe there are no real mysterious deaths here." _He thought. _"Anyone going through here probably got so fucking bored they decided to off themselves."_

No sooner had the thought left his head, than the expedition stopped. Donnovan lightly bumped into Rockfowl, who was in front of him.

"Sorry." He apologized loudly to compensate for the howl of the wind.

"No problem." Rockfowl answered him at the same voice level.

"Why've we stopped?" Donnovan asked, more announcing than speaking.

"No idea. I think we-" The entire group, still gripping each other's shoulders, was suddenly yanked forward, all falling on top of each other. Donnovan shook his head to rid his muscles of the unpleasant feeling of his muscles being yanked forward, and climbed to his feet.

"Back up! Back up! Get close together, get the carriers in the center! NOW!" A voice Donnovan recognized as belonging to Morrill managed to yell over the commotion. A cacophony of metal against metal, mooing, and shuffling noises resounded as the group unceremoniously grouped back together. As they were herding the animals together, a straggling Brahmin began to meander towards them, when from out of the swirling dust behind it, something lashed out and grabbed its hindquarters and lifted the beast up and back, pulling it into the storm.

"Holy shit! Did you see that!" Donnovan asked Rockfowl.

"Yeah!" Rockfowl had managed to dig his gattling laser out of one of the packs. He held it at waist level, then pulled down on the trigger, releasing a heavy stream of laser fire into the spot where the Brahmin had been taken. As the lasers disappeared into the dust, a deep, loud, echoing roar came from somewhere near them. Rockfowl immediately stopped firing. "I think I just made it mad." He paused, a note of fear in his voice, his gattling laser hanging loosely in his hands.

"What the fuck is, 'it'!" Dusk had appeared next to them, holding her sniper rifle.

"I have no idea!"

"Cut the chatter, group up!" Morrill's voice commanded. Eventually, despite the chaos, the group finally found themselves in a circle, their pack animals in the center. "Recount, now!". Morrill called off everyone's names, and to Donnovan's relief, everyone responded, though McGraw did so with a painful grunt.

"What'd we lose?" Morrill asked. Rockfowl's answer was drowned out by yet another deep, primal roar.

"What the fuck is going on!" Morgan yelled.

"We lost a pack Brahmin." Rockfowl yelled. "It got picked up into the dust."

"Picked up?" Dusk asked. "How the fuck do you 'pick up' a Brahmin!"

Their yelling was cut short as something large and heavy flew into them, knocking Rockfowl and Donnovan over into the sand for the second time. Laying on the ground, Donnovan looked to his left to see the skeleton of the Brahmin that had been taken second before. Most of its flesh was stripped, and several intestines were still clinging to the skeleton. Resisting the urge to throw up, he rolled over several times, expecting to get to his feet, but his shoulder hit something solid. He looked up to find that he had rolled directly into a massive rock outcropping. He climbed to his feet, his heart pounding. Moving back to the direction from which he was hit, Donnovan moved along the rock, feeling with his hands. His hands eventually disappeared into emptiness, and Donnovan stepped forward. His foot hit hard stone. A surge of adrenaline flooded through him, and he turned to look back at the direction where his group was, an Outcast flew backwards, missing him by inches. The armored figure hit the rock hard, and dropped to the sand.

"That… fucking… hurt..." Morgan grunted, climbing to her feet. "Wait… Wait! ROCK!"

"Yeah, I know! There's an opening? Hold up, how the fuck did you get here?"

"Whatever the hell that thing is, it barreled through us, taking another Brahmin. Everyone went flying."

"Christ."

Barely making out the faint outline of one of the expedition members, Donnovan ran forward, bowling over Glade.

"Jesus, that's fucking three times." He cursed, getting to his feet.

"Hey! I found a cave… or something! It's rock!" Donnovan yelled.

"What? Where!" Morrill passed from person to person until he came upon Donnovan. "A cave?"

"Kind of, it's—"

"Doesn't matter. Whatever the hell it is, it's better than being out here." Morrill interrupted him. The sound of metal being ripped apart resounded, and a fading voice could be heard.

"Pin my medals, on m-"

"Everyone form up, let's go! Single file line! Grab the damn carriers!" Morrill yelled. Several more moments of chaos ensued as everyone gathered together. Donnovan felt a grip on his shoulder, and he led the way directly back. His head hit a jutting rock hard, and the sound of clanging metal resounded in his head.

"OW! Mother-." He cursed, using his hands again. His hands found the empty space, and he pulled whoever was behind him into it.

"GO! GO!" He yelled. He didn't have time to count the figures moving past him, but he knew, with a sinking feeling, that it wasn't everyone.

"Don!" Vargas yelled, appearing in front of Donnovan. Donnovan gripped his hand to pull him towards the opening, but Vargas resisted. "Wait, there are still-"

His voice was suddenly cut short as an extremely heavy force ran into Donnovan yet again, and he felt himself fall forward. He stood up and looked around for the attacker, then became uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was still gripping Vargas' hand. There was no weight behind it. In horror, Donnovan looked down. Vargas' arm, still clad in metal armor, was ripped off right below the shoulder. The metal that connected the arm piece to the shoulder was stripped and cut, with a jagged piece of his shoulder armor loosely flopping at the end of the arm. Donnovan stood, horrorstruck, staring into the dust. He felt a glove grip his shoulder, and steer him backwards into the opening.

Donnovan found himself in a rather large, brown-tinted cave, with many rock outcroppings, stalagmites, and stalactites around. A faint dripping sound could be heard somewhere. He looked around at the rest of the group that had made it in.

Morgan and Yearling were taking off McGraw's power armor. There was a massive puncture right through his right breastplate. He was leaning against the cave wall, breathing hard, blood running down his mouth. Lucy was sitting on the cave floor, her back against the wall, head in her hands. She was crying, and Morrill sat down next to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. She leaned into him, and began to sob even harder. Cross was attempting to move the remaining pack animals and robots together to better get organized. Only three Brahmin remained out of the original five. The Robobrain and a Mr. Gutsy were gone, as well as two of the six protectrons. One of the remaining protectrons was lying on the ground, a large diagonal tear across its chest. Its legs were still moving, but sparks were flying out of the open cut, on which Olin was working on. Donnovan looked to his side to find Glade standing next to him.

"What… What the fuck are you holding?" He asked, his voice sounded defeated. Donnovan looked down to see that his fingers were still clenched around Vargas' disembodied arm.

"Vargas…" Donnovan stated, taking his helmet off with his free hand and tossing it aside, his voice very quiet. "Or what's left of him." He walked over to the cave wall and put Vargas' arm gently down, unsure of what to do with it before striding back over to Glade.

"Is this everyone who made it in?" Cross walked over to them looking somber. "You have blood on you, Donnovan." She added. Donnovan looked down at his armor to find that Vargas' blood had sprayed onto his armor.

"Vargas… Vargas is dead." He told Cross.

"We're missing a few more." Cross said softly.

"Who?" Glade asked, his eyes moving from person to person, rapidly.

"Sentinel Lyons, Defender Rockfowl… And…" Cross began.

"Dusk…" Donnovan stated as he felt the pit of his stomach drop away.

"No… God dammit…" Glade mumbled.

There was a huge groan from over in the corner, and they looked over. McGraw's undershit was stained with blood, ripped open over his wound. Yearling had apparently stopped the bleeding, however, and with the help of Morgan, was wrapping a bandage around the wound. McGraw's damage power armor lay next to him.

"Shit…" Olin spat, getting up and kicking the protectron she had been working on. It lay there silently, its lights off. "Most of the circutry was ripped up. No way it could be fixed." She threw her long, blonde hair, which she usually kept up in a bun, out of her face. She had a rather large cut across the side of her head, and her robes were torn at the legs.

"Come here." Donnovan motioned to her. They walked over to one of the Brahmin, away from the group. McGraw had made the wise decision to split all of the supplies mostly evenly among the Brahmin, and then stow the other odds and ends on them. The two brahmin that had been taken had been carrying their cooking and camping supplies, and a large amount of their non-perishable food. Donnovan dug into one of the bags, pulling out a small medical kit. He dabbed some isopropyl alcohol onto a clean cloth, and held it to the cut on Olin's head. She grimaced and gave a hiss of pain, putting her hands tightly on Donnovan's arm and closing the eye closest to the cut. Donnovan was reaching into the bag again to find a bandage, when his shifting foot kicked something solid. He looked down to find the ashes of a campfire, along with a sleeping bag and several empty food wrappers. His mind was coming to the obvious conclusion as to where these came from, when he suddenly felt the familiar cold steel of a pistol against the back of his head.

"Wh-who are you?" A terrified, but extremely familiar voice asked. "How did you get in here?"

Olin un-holstered her laser pistol and aimed it at the attacker, her left hand still holding the cloth to her head.

"Drop it." She commanded.

"You do realize there are a lot more of us than you." Donnovan told the pistol's handler. The pistol slowly removed itself from his head, and Donnovan turned to face the owner. His jaw dropped as he stared at a familiar, slightly tan face and black hair of someone he thought he would never see again.

"Amata!"


	8. Damage Control

_Sorry it's been so long, guys. I went on vacation to Israel and Europe. To be honest, I expected I still would have some time to write, but the first few days were insane with an 11 hour time difference_. _Until January 9__th__, updates will be less frequent, but afterwards, they should go back to being daily/every other day. I assure you, this series is not dead. :) _

**Part 8 - Damage Control**

The dust storm still raged outside the cave, giving a faint background to the silent travelers, all looking at the former vault dweller.

"What… What are you doing here?" Amata asked, starring at Donnovan as though he was a ghost.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing." Donnovan said.

"I kept thinking about your stories… You leaving the Vault… Wandering… Adventure…" she stated.

"So you decided to head west on your own?" Donnovan asked.

"No… no. Well, kind of…" Amata answered, the color in her face slowly coming back. "I started out on my own. Had to sneak out while my dad was in the medical bay. I found this caravan that was going west. Crimson Caravan, or something."

Olin and Donnovan exchanged worried glances.

"So I joined up with them. They decided to take a shortcut through here…"

"What happened to them?" Olin asked.

"Dead… They're all dead." Amata said. "I've been here for…" She looked at her pip-boy. "Four days now. I don't think they could survive that long out in that dust… With that thing…"

"Have you seen it? Do you know what it looks like?" Donnovan asked.

"All I saw were jaws… Two huge black jaws… Ripped a Brahmin in half right in front of me… Took the caravan leader's head off." Amata trailed away.

There was another painful groan from over in the corner. McGraw was propped up against the wall, gripping his puncture wound. He turned and coughed violently several times, leaving blood spatters on the ground along with traces of a strange black substance.

"We got hit, too." Morrill stated, walking up to them. "We're missing three of ours."

"Four." Donnovan corrected him. "Vargas."

"Right…" Morrill shrugged awkwardly.

Hours passed, as the group milled around the cave, unsure of what to do. Donnovan was talking to Amata, after having given her some of the expedition's food.

"I still can't believe you guys came this way. I figured-" Amata was saying, when there was a loud clang at the small entrance to the cave.

"Argh!" A deep voice that Donnovan recognized as belonging to Rockfowl, grunted. There was a rush of movement outside. "Get off of me, you-" his voice faded slightly, then the extremely loud sound of a double-barrel shotgun firing both barrels could be heard, followed by a huge roar and a soft thud.

"Hey! HELP!" Rockfowl's voice called, growing louder. Lucy, who had her head in her knees, leapt to her feet and ran to the cave entrance, Morrill and Donnovan sprinted after her.

Holding his hands in front of him against the wind, a helmetless Rockfowl, bruised and bleeding, appeared in the entrance of the cave.

"Get in!" Lucy yelled. As Rockfowl took two steps in, he suddenly tripped and fell, and slowly began to be dragged back into the storm. Lucy and Morrill grabbed him by the shoulders, attempting to haul him back, while Donnovan aimed his AK-47 between the two rescuers, letting single, controlled rounds off into the dust. Rockfowl feverishly worked at his boot as he, Morrill, and Lucy were slowly dragged forward. Finally, halfway out of the cave, he managed to unclasp his armored boot, and it disappeared into the dust. Morrill and Lucy stood Rockfowl to his feet, just as what looked to be a pincer surged into them out of the dust. The needle missed, but the blunt end hit Morrill across the chest, sending him sprawling backward. He, in turn, stumbled into the others, sending all of them rolling into the cave. Several seconds of silence passed, everyone breathing hard, when Lucy spoke up.

"Would you… power armor… fuck nuggets… get off of me?" Lucy grunted. Everyone untangled themselves from each other and straightened up.

"How the hell did you get back?" Morrill said, as Lucy checked Rockfowl's wounds.

"I remembered the rock. I just got thrown around like a ragdoll. And I ran my head into the stone jutting out near the entrance."

"What the fuck is that thing out there?" Donnovan asked.

"Pincers. That's all I really remember." Rockfowl winced as Lucy applied some disinfectant to his head.

"Pincers? Jaws?" Donnovan glanced backward at Amata.

"Can't be a scorpion, can it?" Olin suggested.

"One that big?"

"Why not, we've seen all kinds of sizes in the Ca-"

There was another fit of hacking coughs over in the corner, and McGraw leaned backwards against the cave wall.

"Rockfowl." He rasped, a small smile appearing on his worn out, sweat-covered face. "You made it back."

"Yeah." Rockfowl nodded as the group circled around McGraw.

"Good. Still missing a few, huh?" McGraw coughed.

"Yeah."

"Whatever that thing is… kill it for me." McGraw said, looking around at everyone.

"You're gonna help us do it." Morgan kneeled down next to him. "We're all gonna kill that bastard."

"No… No…" McGraw. "I'm pretty much… gone."

"You've still got time." Yearling said, checking McGraw's bandage. "If we can get to a settlement. We're almost out of antibiotics and pain killers."

"Let me guess. It was on one of the Brahmin that were taken?" Olin asked.

"Yes." Morgan answered.

"There's nothing else for it…" Morrill said. "We've got to move out, now."

"What?" Glade stood up, angrily. "What about Lyons and Dusk?"

"We can't wait any longer. Who knows where they are?" Morrill stated, though it was obvious he didn't like the idea any more than Glade.

"What, so we leave them?" Olin cocked an eyebrow.

"We have to go for it." Morrill said. "Otherwise we're just going to use up all of our food and die in the cave, instead of out in the storm by that… thing."

"But the others…" Morgan stated awkwardly.

"Who knows, but McGraw will die if we stay here any longer." Yearling spoke up in Morrill's defense. "If we leave now, there's still a chance we can get him to a settlement in time to save him."

There was another hacking cough as McGraw spat out more blood, then passed out against the wall. This finalized the decision in Donnovan's mind.

"We should go." Donnovan muttered. Glade looked at him angrily. "I know, I know. Look… I'm not giving up on them. Maybe we'll run into them. But we've got a heavily injured man, here."

"How about this..." Morrill offered. "We try to get the out of here. We go west until we climb out of this hellhole. We get McGraw stable, then go back in to check for Dusk and Lyons."

Everyone looked at each other. Glade looked unhappy, but he nodded nevertheless.

"There's nothing else we can do." Donnovan shrugged.

"Rockfowl…" McGraw groaned. He had woken up apparently. "My armor… Use it…"

"No… I-" Rockfowl began.

"I can't… You need it…" McGraw said.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes… Please. Someone.. help…" McGraw grunted. Yearling and Morgan began to remove his power armor pieces. Donnovan turned and walked over to Amata, who was standing back from the group, hugging herself slightly.

"You alright?" He asked her.

"I'm scared." She shivered.

"We're not gonna leave you, you know." Donnovan said.

"I… I don't wanna go back out there." Amata stated. She looked up at Donnovan, her eyes welling up with tears. She began to shiver harder. Donnovan pulled her into a hug.

"You have to. You'll die here." He said, holding her tightly.

"I'm scared…" She whispered.

"I am too." Donnovan admitted. "But we can't stay here. Come with us… You have no other choice other than to waste away in here."

It took a few minutes, but Amata finally stopped shivering.

"Okay… Okay, I'll come with you." She said.

"Here." Donnovan smiled warmly, handing her a spare set of traveling gear from one of the remaining Brahmin. As Amata walked over into a corner to put them on, Morrill and Rockfowl came over, carrying McGraw on a stretcher thrown together from spare metal scraps, sheets, and tent pole pieces. They carefully loaded him onto one of the Brahmin, and strapped him down. Not making much conversation, everyone took this as the signal to start packing up, and several minutes later, they all gathered at the entrance. They had fashioned a makeshift line, and tied it to each member of the expedition. This time, they had all agreed, the second their unseen menace decided to attack them again, they will all gather together immediately, and move as one. Donnovan volunteered to bring up the front, while a protectron was in the back.

"So… Every-" Donnovan began.

"Wait, wait!" Olin suddenly exclaimed. "I have an idea. Disconnect one of the other protectrons." Morgan did as commanded, and the robot shuffled over to Olin. She opened up the front panel, examined it, then turned to the group.

"Hand me… Hand me some fragmentation grenades." She said, busying herself on the robot.

Morgan dug into a pack, bringing up a handful of the explosives. She handed them to Olin, who immediately went to work. She then took some of the spare wiring and lights off of the ruined protectron on the cave floor, and added them to the robot she was working on. Several minutes later, she stood back, admiring her handiwork, then closed the robot's panel. She walked it over to the front of the group, and much to Donnovan's dismay, hooked it in front of him.

"What… What the hell?" Donnovan said, slightly uneasy.

"Power Armor's fragmentation resistant, right?" Olin said in an almost unconcerned tone.

"Yeah, 'frag' resistant," Donnovan stated, "not 'rape by thousands of metal shards from two feet away' resistant."

"Believe me, you'll be fine." Olin said.

"Says you, right in the middle of the group." Donnovan retorted as Olin hooked herself back up to the line. "You're not the one with a walking nailbomb in front of you."

"Greetings, fellow traveler." The protectron stated. "I am here to make sure your journey is safe and comfortable."

Donnovan shot Olin an extremely annoyed look, which sent Olin into a fit of giggles. Donnovan rolled his eyes, then put on his helmet.

"Lead on, you fucking deathtrap."

"Have a niiiiice, day." The protectron said politely and started forward, the group following behind him. They exited into the dust storm, and immediately headed west, Donnovan guiding the explosive-laden protectron in front of him. Every muscle in his body tensed each time he took a step, listening for something, anything different in the storm. The group trekked on, and no sooner had Donnovan slightly let his guard down, than his leg hit something solid. Almost tripping, he caught himself, standing upright. He lightly felt forward with his foot, and again, it tapped something metallic. Donnovan signaled for the person behind him to stop, and bent down. A strange piece of metal was jutting out of the sand. It for some reason looked oddly familiar to Donnovan, and he brushed some of the sand away from it, uncovering the edges of what seemed to be a design on the metal. He dug a bit deeper with his hands, and his heart leapt into his throat. It was a Brotherhood of steel design. It was a shoulder piece of power armor. Donnovan's stomach clenched slightly at the thought of finding Vargas' torn up body, but as he dug deeper, he found the right arm to still be attatched.

"Gather over here, near me!" Donnovan called out. The group slowly came together as Donnovan kept digging. "Give me a hand!" Morgan and Glade dropped to their knees and began to help. Eventually, they unearthed a chestplate, still connected to a helmet. Donnovan carefully removed it. The others gasped. They were looking at Dusk's face. Her eyes closed. Almost immediately, Morgan checked her pulse.

"She's alive." Morgan said, looking back at the others as Donnovan replaced Dusk's helmet.

"Thank God!" Glade stated.

"Here. Let's get her up. Help me put her on the other Brahmin." Donnovan said. They carefully lifted their companion, still clad in power armor and tied her down. The poor beast moaned under the weight.

"Hold up." Morgan said. She checked in several of the bags, lifted them to test their weight, then cut two loose.

"What was that?" Glade asked.

"A tent and two sets of combat armor." She said.

"Fuck. We can only go on caps for so long. We're going to need some trade goods when we get out of here." Donnovan said.

"IF we get out of here." Glade added.

"Calm down, man. It's alright." Donnovan put his hand on Glade's shoulder. "We found Dusk. Let's just try to get the hell out of here before McGraw fades. Dusk will be fine, believe me."

Glade nodded as the group went back into formation. Relieved at the discovery of Dusk, Donnovan nudged the protectron leading him forward, and it began to march, the group following. It had taken several steps before something flashed by Donnovan's vision. There was a resounding screech of metal as the robot was taken and the group was pulled forward.

"Did it take it!" Olin's voice could be heard.

"Yeah." Donnovan yelled. "Wh-"

*KA-BOOM*

A loud, heavy explosion resounded somewhere to their left, followed by a bloodcurdling screech.

"Got you, you son of a bitch!" Olin screamed in triumph. Another roar resounded as the group gathered together, back-to-back. The dust seemed to part slightly as a gigantic pincer, pockmarked and bleeding, came out of the dust, followed by the head of what had to be a massive scorpion. Its face was cut and mangled by Olin's trap, and it lashed out at the group, half-blind. It managed to connect the blunt end of a pincer with Glade sending him to the ground, the rest of the group falling with him, tied by their safety lines.

"Shit! Kill it! KILL IT!" Donnovan yelled.

"DIE, DIE, DIE!" Morgan screamed, in a voice eerily reminiscent of a raider as she let loose with her assault rifle, aiming at the scorpion's head. From the dust above, a massive stinger appeared and shot out at Morgan, who fell into the sand, dodging it by inches. It lashed again, this time barely clipping the corner of Donnovan's shoulder armor. It drew back a third time, and lashed out at Morgan again, who was still on her back in the sand. Out of nowhere, McGraw, appeared and threw himself in front of Morgan. The stinger penetrated his stomach and he coughed. There was a stunned silence. Even the scorpion seemed surprised.

The tail began to rise, slowly lifting McGraw up into the air. Grimacing with pain but determined, McGraw slashed as hard as he could with his massive combat knife at the tail, then jammed the blade deep into the open wound. The scorpion screeched again, and threw McGraw to the sand in front of it. As its head bent down over him and the pincers closed around him to block him in, a strange grin appeared on McGraw's face. He pulled the pins on a handful of fragmentation grenades, and immediately thrust his arm forward, jamming it, along with the explosives, into the scorpion's maw. Another massive explosion resounded, sending dust, shrapnel, and blood all through the air.

The massive scorpion shuddered one last time before giving a loud death rattle, and its claws fell into the sand, sending dust flying upwards. Almost immediately, the storm seemed to consume the casualties of the battle, closing in around the expedition as they stood in awe, trying to fully take it what they had just seen.


	9. Out of Sight, Out of Mind

**Part 9 – ****Out of Sight, Out of Mind**

The only thing Donnovan heard for several seconds was the familiar sound of sand and dust scraping his helmet.

"McGraw!" Olin screamed. "No!" She unhooked herself from the group and plunged off into the storm.

"Shit. Get moving! Go!" Donnovan yelled at the others, unhooking himself as well.

"What about you?" Morgan yelled.

"I'm getting Olin. Just go, who the hell knows what else is in here."

"How will you get back?" Glade asked him.

"McGraw's compass!" Donnovan gave him the thumbs up then followed Olin's path as the group reluctantly began to move again. Donnovan didn't have to search long at all, as he tripped and briefly stumbled over one of the dead scorpion's claws. With his hand on the claw, he followed it, running his arm across the giant creature, to the remnants of the scorpion's head. There he found Olin, who had fallen to her knees, head in her hands. Several sobs could faintly be heard. Donnovan slowly came up behind her, and into his view, came a mangle, dusty, almost unrecognizable body. He knelt down next to Olin and put his arm around her. She sobbed, still looking at McGraw's body, missing an arm.

"He… He saved my life like five times…" Olin said, her voice very shaky. "He was like a dad to me."

"He saved my ass too." Donnovan told her. "Back in the outpost, remember?"

"Yeah." Olin nodded, her eyes still covered by her hands.

"Hey… Here." Donnovan stated softly, kneeling down facing her, and helping her put her dust goggles on. "Protect your eyes. We-"

Something shining was glinting near one of the pieces of what previously had been the scorpion's head. He grabbed it, along with a handful of sand, and picked it up. The sand seeped away between his fingers as Paladin Vargas' holotag revealed itself, mostly undamaged. Donnovan immediately tucked it away, then looked around for McGraw's. He found it wrapped around his still intact hand, along with the compass. Olin removed both objects and looked at them sadly for several seconds. Donnovan opened his hand, and she reached out and put her fingers into his hand, leaving the holotag and compass there as she did so. Olin leaned into Donnovan, and he put his free arm around her as she pressed herself closer to him, still shuddering lightly with sobs. Suddenly, a strange rattling noise could be heard nearby, and both of them froze. The sound repeated itself several times.

"_No way… No fucking way…"_ Donnovan thought as a chill ran down his spine. He slowly turned his helmet-covered head, looking for the source. Sure enough, out of the dust around the huddled pair, scorpions were emerging. They were much smaller than the giant the expedition had slain, but were around the familiar size of the scorpions that lived in the Capital Wasteland.

"Olin… Quiet…" Donnovan nudged her. She had also been alertly looking around. She nodded at him. The two slowly got to their feet, still gripping each other, and began to back away, as the scorpions swarmed over the dead carcass of the giant. From behind the body, a large, white scorpion appeared. Its tail and stinger were up and curved, standing higher than Donnovan. It skittered forward and stopped several feet from the pair. The white scorpion simply stared at them as its grey and black fellows behind it crawled back and forth over the dead giant. The white scorpion, still several feet away, suddenly hissed, and lashed out at the pair. They flinched, but didn't move, as the tail was far enough away. The scorpion seemed to be threatening them. It lashed out ten more times until Donnovan and Olin, rooted to the spot in fear and slight confusion, broke out of their trance as the wind howled around them. The scorpion slowly backed away from them, and Olin lightly shoved Donnovan with her shoulder.

"Let's go." She stated in a low voice. They both began to back away, eyes still on the strange scene occurring in front of them, until the dust storm obscured everything. At that point, Donnovan lifted his left hand, the compass in it, to his face, grabbed Olin's hand with his right, and the pair took off running, wanting to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the scorpions.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Donnovan yelled, checking his compass as they ran.

"No idea." Olin answered. "I don't know, and I don't want to know. Let's get the hell out of here. Where are the others?"

"They went on ahead! We'll catch up with-" Donnovan's head connected with the rear-end of a Brahmin, and he fell backwards into the sand. The beast mooed in terror, and Cross was there in an instant, calming it down.

"Did I just run into the ass of a pack beast?" Donnovan asked out loud.

"You know, there's a homosexual joke somewhere in that sentence." Glade had appeared and helped Donnovan to his feet.

"Wait, what happened to your depressed mood?" Donnovan asked. He couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Look." Glad said simply, pointing. They had reached a massive rock face. Donnovan looked up. The cliff wall disappeared into the storm above. Next to the wall, a narrow pathway led up.

"No… No way… The exit?" Donnovan asked.

"Yeah, we've been waiting for you two idiots. Were were gonna head up there if you didn't show in a few minutes." Glade stated. "Now let's hurry the fuck up. I don't ever want to see another grain of sand while I live."

"Alright… Remind me, I've got something to tell you." Donnovan mumbled, as Morrill, who was bringing up the front of the expedition again, began to move forward, the rest of them following. Donnovan and Olin took one last glance behind them before the group headed up. Through the dust, Donnovan saw the fleeting end of a white tail disappear before he looked at Olin.

"I saw it…" She said, stepping forward onto the solid natural ramp, pulling Donnovan's hand. "Let's go. This place has given me enough bad memories already."

"Yeah." Donnovan agreed, following her up, enjoying the feel of stable ground under his feet. Ever so slowly, as the group made the ascent, the sound of the storm began to fade, and their vision began clear. Eventually, as they made it over the crest of the ramp, the dust was no longer obscuring anything, and the sound of the storm was a distant din. They found themselves on a large open landing. A sign next to them read "Danger: Certain Death", and a massive metal gate, of the kind they had seen before they entered Hellfire Crater, loomed in front of them, a guard tower behind it.

"H-Hello?" Morrill called uncertainly. There was no answer. "Hello?" He called louder. "HELLO!" Morrill yelled.

"Ya Allah…!" An amazed exclamation could be heard, followed by a heavily Arabic-accented voice. "Yes… Hello?"

"Hello!" Morrill repeated a forth time, slightly annoyed. "We would like to come in."

"Who… Who are you?" The voice stated. A man appeared in the guard tower, looking down at them. He had very tan skin, a full beard, and a white, stitched taqiyah was on his head.

"We are travelers. We have wounded. We are looking for rest and possibly markets to trade at." Morrill called.

"You've come to the right place, but… Ya Allah…" The man repeated. "I didn't expect more." The gate screeched loudly, and began to open. The gates revealed a narrow, dusty, cobble-stone street. Walls of similar stone were along the side, and in the distance, opened into a large, circular area. The man in the tower directed them down the street. "You can find everything you need there." He stated, looking at the travelers with interest, before turning back to the tower, muttering to himself in a foreign language.

"What's he speaking?" Lucy asked.

"Arabic I believe." Morgan said, looking over at Donnovan, who nodded.

"Arabic? What?"

"I'm as confused as you." Morgan stated, unhooking herself and walking forward. "Or I should actually say, intrigued."

The group followed Morgan's example. They all unhooked themselves from their tethers and moved forward until they found themselves in what appeared to be a massive market. People bustled back and forth, animals screeched and mooed, and all sorts of languages flew back and forth. Donnovan caught snatches of Hebrew, Arabic, Farsi, and English, among many others. Vendors called out, selling their wares. People wore all sorts of garb: robes, traveling cloaks, yarmulkes, and black brimmed hats were just some of the articles Donnovan saw being sold or worn. Here and there, armed, uniformed men and women walked back and forth, keeping an eye out.

"This place is ridiculous…" Donnovan stated, staring at the scene in front of him.

"Can I help you?" A man had walked up to them, speaking in a thick Hebrew accent. Apparently they had been drawing some strange looks from people in the crowd.

"Yes… Where can we find the nearest infirmary?" Morrill asked.

"Infirmary?"

"A… hospital?"

"Ah, kien." The man stated. "Down that street." He pointed. "Third building on your right."

"Thank you." Morrill stated as the group kept moving.

As they walked, a loud voice suddenly came out across the town in Arabic. Over the city an almost singing voice called out in Arabic, and many people began leaving the crowds and hurrying to several buildings along the street.

"Okay, seriously… Where are we?" Lucy asked as the group made their way to a large, old, but clean looking brown-stone building. Donnovan ran over to the Brahmin that was carrying Dusk, and, with the help of Glade and Morril, unloaded her, and carefully carried her through the doors. Inside, they were immediately greeted by another man dressed in a white robe.

"What is wrong with her?" He immediately asked in a very business-like, Hebrew-accented voice.

"We're not sure. Unconscious, probably dehydrated." Morgan stated. "We were traveling through Hellfire Crater, and got attacked. We got separated for several hours."

"You traveled through Hellfire Crater?" The man looked in awe as Dusk was loaded onto a nearby gurney.

"Yeah."

"How did you all make it out?" The man asked as Dusk was wheeled into a corner, and a curtain was wrapped around her.

"We didn't all make it…" Donnovan stated sadly. "Two of our guys died in there… We lost quite a few robots and pack animals as well."

"Oh." The doctor looked awkwardly away from them. "I apologize."

"Nah, it's fine. We were stupid to take that path." Donnovan said. "You'll take care of her?"

"Of course."

"How much?"

"How much what?" The doctor looked confused.

"For the treatment?"

"Oh. It is free for travelers, traders, and shop keepers."

"You've got to be shitting me!" Morgan's mouth opened.

"No." The doctor gave a chuckle. "We are a major, major trade hub, and all of the taxes from the town go towards medical supplies and care. We try to keep this as one of the safest settlements… well, in the world. We do well here. That is why this place is always so busy."

"Alright, well…" Donnovan reached into his pocket, grabbed a handful of caps, and put them onto a small table nearby. "That's a tip for you then. Please, take good care of our friend."

"You don't have to-" The doctor began.

"I know, but I want to. Please, take it." Donnovan stated. The doctor, somewhat reluctantly, scraped the caps off of the table and put them in his pocket.

"GUYS!" A voice suddenly yelled. The group looked over at one of the other gurneys to find none other than Sarah sitting up, looking at them.

"My god!" Morrill exclaimed as the group, all pushing and shoving, stumbled their way to Sarah. A chaotic exchange of hugs later, Sarah looked around. Her face fell.

"Vargas and McGraw…" She said sadly.

"Yeah…" Morgan practically whispered.

"I have their holotags." Donnovan mumbled.

"How'd you get here?" Rockfowl asked Sarah.

"After the scorpion threw us apart, I lost track of you guys." Sarah explained. "I traveled one direction, non-stop, until I hit a rock wall. Then pretty much followed it here."

"Lucky." Morgan let out a low whistle.

"No kidding." Sarah stated. "The pincers wounded my arm, so I made my way here. I thought I'd never see you all again."

"We thought the same." Olin said. "We killed the scorpion though."

"You what?" Sarah's mouth opened in awe.

"There are other, smaller ones though." Olin stated. Everyone stared at her.

"Look, we'll explain later. Right now, let's figure out what to do while we're here."

"We keep saying here…" Lucy stated, giving Sarah a hug. "But where the hell is 'here'?"

Sarah shrugged.

"Excuse me, ma'am!" Donnovan asked a passing nurse, who was wearing a black head covering.

"Yes sir?" She asked in an Arabic accent.

"Where are we?"

"What do you mean, sir?" The woman looked confused. "You are in our hospital."

"Yes." Donnovan nodded. "But this town, this settlement. What is it called?"

"You've never been here before?" She asked.

"No, ma'am."

"Well then, welcome." She smiled warmly. "Welcome to New Jerusalem."


	10. Lessons of the Past and Future

**Part 10 – Lessons of the Past and Future**

The expedition held a funeral for their fallen comrades. The holotags of Vargas and McGraw were wrapped around candles, each one lit. Morrill spoke of the two, his voice cracking slightly. Everyone had been sullen. When Vargas was mentioned, Lucy put her hand to her eyes, her jaw twitching slightly. When McGraw was spoken of, Olin hung her head, her whole body lightly shaking with silent sobs. Lucy had comforted her. The group stayed there silently until both candles had burned down, then parted, Morrill putting the holotags into a small lockbox for safekeeping.

After everything was taken care of, and the expedition had rented several rooms in a motel, Donnovan had taken to wandering the streets of New Jerusalem to get his mind off of the funeral, and his two dead companions. His walk took him across many areas of the large town, through the Jewish quarter, the Muslim quarter, and the Christian quarter. As he walked, questions began to form in his head. Seeing a guard sitting back, smoking a cigarette, he walked over to the man.

"Hello." Donnovan said.

"How are you?" The man smiled. He had a thick, Hebrew accent.

"Could I bother you about how this place works?" Donnovan asked.

"I don't mind, that's what we're here for!" The guard motioned to the empty spot on the bench he was sitting on. Donnovan took it. "What did you want to know?"

"I see Jews, Muslims, Christians, everyone here, living in… well, harmony, I guess. They aren't overly friendly with each other, but they smile and nod as they pass one another."

"Is that a bad thing?" The guard asked, confused.

"No, no." Donnovan shook his head. "It's just… You can't say the history between all three of those major religions has been exactly peaceful. Hell, add all of the geo-political shit over Palestine that was happening in the pre-War years, and it's rather surprising."

"I'm impressed." The guard nodded appreciatively. "You know your history." He took a deep drag on his cigarette. "How this happened is rather simple. Horrible, but simple. Yes, you are right. In the pre-war years, we were constantly killing each other, drawing political and battle lines, and so on. However, when the world was getting ready for nuclear war, it was a wake-up call. Everyone, Christians, Muslims, and Jews, new that Jerusalem would be one of the first to be targeted by an overzealous Iran. Iran, in turn, would most likely be hit by Israel. There was an exodus from the city. Many rich, prominent families belonging to the religions left, and the survivors founded this town. The travel here is a whole separate tale, however. Sad to think that a war that wiped out almost all of our people, both Jews and Arabs, was the thing that brought us together."

Donnovan leaned back to take all of this in. Centuries of chaos, only to be solved by almost everything in the world being destroyed. To start over. That was their solution.

"Incredible."

"Incredible and horrible, yes. We realize now, that we don't have to love each other. We simply have to let each other live. We realized this far later than we should have, after far too many innocent lives were lost on all sides after centuries of war."

"But this new settlement... Isn't it very close to where the bombs fell? I mean, Hellfire Crater…"

"There used to be a privately-owned vault under us, paid for by those families I mentioned. We were close to a direct hit, but it fell into the canyon. The only real danger was the fallout, but again, because of that canyon, the area around the vault entrance was clear in only fifteen years. After that, the families came out and began to rebuild. The three religions coming together to rebuild a connection to their homeland. Strange, isn't it? The vault now is a storage facility for the merchants and for travelers passing through."

"That is incredible." Donnovan repeated. "Destruction caused the rift to heal. Just amazing."

"Indeed."

"So you have all sorts of religions here?"

"Yes. At first, the founders only built the city for the three major religions. Traders of all religions came through, and at first, they were not allowed to worship. The founders realized, however, that this would lead right back to their original problems of the pre-War years, and have allowed every religion in. We have all sorts of temples here. So long as you do not harm others through your religious practices, you are allowed to worship as you want. I believe the most recent addition is a small Ba'hai temple."

"The Ba'hai survived, huh?" Donnovan stated thoughtfully. "What's the crime like here?"

"Not too horrible." The guard said. "We have some minor petty thefts here and there, once in a while a murder, but the perpetrators are usually caught. And it has never yet been over religious differences. We sometimes have people disappear, but that's because a lot of traders forget to sign out when they leave in the morning."

"Yeah, I remember the doc getting us to sign a paper when we arrived." Donnovan nodded. "Do-" He stopped short. A figure in very familiar-looking robes, these ones crimson-colored, was walking past them, its face covered by a hood. The figure coughed, then paused briefly, noticing Donnovan's icy stare, before walking on down the street.

"Tell me…" Donnovan started again. "What religion would that be?"

"I believe that is a member of the Transitional Twilight Hand. Strange group of people, I must admit, but nevertheless welcome to worship."

"Know anything about them?"

"Not really. They keep to themselves. Don't usually allow outsiders in."

"Alright." Donnovan stood up, watching the figure walk down the cobble-stone street towards the market. "Thank you for your time, and for the history lesson. If I have any more questions, can I find you?"

"Yes, my name is Shorik David. Just ask for me at the guard station, I'll let them know you are looking for me. What is your name?"

"Donnovan," He answered, glancing back at the guard and shaking his hand. "Donnovan Edan. I'll find you again, man. Thanks." With that, he turned and quickly followed the robed figure's footsteps while Shorik looked on in curiosity.

Donnovan caught up to the figure, which had stopped at a market stall to buy a large pig. Donnovan watched as the butcher raised his cleaver, but the figure stopped him.

"No, thank you." A male voice floated out from under the hood. "I would like it as is. For artistic reasons when we serve it." The butcher raised an eyebrow and shrugged, but nevertheless handed the pig over. The hooded man paid him, then slung the pig over his back, and continued on his way. Donnovan hung back for several seconds before he followed the man again.

Eventually, after several turns, Donnovan found himself following the man to a stone-walled building, similar to the size of the Church of the Atom back in Megaton. However, large plate-glass windows could be seen, with strange mosaics constructed into them. One depicted an old man bent over a black alter, his hands bloody, while the clouds parted above his head to reveal a deep turquoise sky. Another showed a man in ceremonial robes and with a dried, cracked face, holding a black book in one hand, and pointing to a gathered, seated crowd with the other. As Donnovan walked, he noticed two armed men standing outside of the gates of the church. The figure he had been following went through. Donnovan walked on, as if he had no intention of walking into the church. He noticed the guards tense up as he passed, then relax as he went on. It was obvious they wouldn't allow just anyone in. These had to be the same cultists from the mansion, and word had no doubt gotten around by now about the burning of the mansion. From his experience inside the mansions, Donnovan knew the cult included ghouls, so they easily could've had messengers going through the irradiated territory to the south, completely bypassing Hellfire Crater and the rocky passes. His mind firmly set, he made his way back to the inn where the expedition was staying.

Donnovan practically leapt up the stairs, three at a time, until he reached the floor where Glade's room was. He threw the door open and came in. Glade, had been lying on the bed, fully clothed, staring at the ceiling, and turned his head in surprise as Donnovan ran in.

"-the fuck? Knock next time."

"That cult's here." Donnvan announced simply.

"You're shitting me!" Glade sat up immediately, his mouth open.

"I've got a name for them, too. Transitional Twilight Hand."

"How…?"

"A guard told me. I was talking to him about the city."

"So what do we do?" Glade asked.

"Remember what me, you, and Dusk agreed to? We'd wipe out any trace of this cult anywhere we went?"

"Yeah, I do. But now you remember, we're not in the wastes anymore. We're in a city. It has a government, it has laws." Glade cocked an eyebrow.

Donnovan froze. He had completely forgotten about this.

"Shit…" He cursed. "That's right… The guard even told me, so long as no one gets hurt, any religion is welcome."

"Besides, how do you know they don't do other shit. How is every single one the same? Either way, you'd need to have evidence to do anything."

Donnovan's mind raced.

"Evidence, huh?" He thought. He then turned and walked towards the door.

"Shit… Wait, what the hell are you planning now?" Glade called.

Donnovan ignored him and jogged back to his room. He opened the door and walked over to the window which offered a view of the street outside, along with a man selling what he called "falafel" out of a cart. Thankfully, no one else was in the room. He stared out the window, but his mind was focused on something else. He stood still for a good hour, thinking about what he planned to do, before finally laying down on his bed. He would have to wait until nightfall. Now, if only he could find some way to make time go by faster.


	11. Infiltration

**Part 11 - Infiltration**

It seemed like days had passed, but it was only hours. The second the clock in the center of the town hit 11:00 p.m., Donnovan decided it was dark enough for him to follow up on his plans. He was sharing a room with Rockfowl, who has fast asleep in the other bed. Donnovan stood up quietly, so as not to wake him. He donned his darkest clothes, pulling the hood of a sweatshirt tightly over his face. From his traveling pack, he pulled out his K-BAR combat knife. As the group had left Dusk's gear in his room, Donnovan decided to borrow Dusk's silenced 10-millimeter pistol. Making sure the weapons were well hidden under his clothes, Donnovan stepped outside into the streets.

The night was lightly cool, and Donnovan enjoyed the walk towards the market that was the center of the town. As he walked, he made sure to watch each of the guards, as they had suddenly become more attentive to him. This, Donnovan knew, was only a trick his mind played on him, as he was going to do something illegal. Automatically, he was more cautious and suspected those around him to automatically know his plans. Unlike others, he knew how to handle this. Dusk had trained him to harness this slight paranoia in a positive manner. "Be attentive to the eyes, and nothing else." She had told him. The idea was that any body movement, in the paranoid state of someone attempting to be unnoticed, would be seen as a sudden attack. Donnovan reached the market without incident, and paused, taking a moment to locate the correct street. The market was still somewhat busy, with many merchants and buyers still wandering about. Several bars had opened up, and there were joyful revelers wandering, or rather, stumbling around the area. Donnovan walked over to the butcher, the same one that had sold the cultist the pig, and struck up a conversation.

"Business good, even at night?"

"Oh yes," the butcher smiled, speaking in a heavy Arabic accent. "You'll be surprised how many suddenly hunger for a large meal at home after a night of drinking."

"Wow. How long have you been doing this?"

"Working? Twenty years. I've had this butcher shop for only eight, however."

"What did you do before this?"

"I was a surgeon."

Donnovan stared.

"You serious?" He asked.

"Yes, I enjoyed helping people, but the work sometimes just gets to you. I quit after I helped a group of caravaners after a bad raider attack. Three did not live. I just couldn't take people dying anymore."

"So you got into… meat?"

"Kind of dark, yes?" The man grinned sheepishly. "It was the only other thing I understood how to do. Besides, business is good. I do not have much to complain about."

Donnovan laughed, and his eyes found the street he needed. He bid the butcher goodbye and walked towards it, but then noticed through the lamp-lit streets, a group of hooded figures standing near the corner. Donnovan, acting nonchalant, walked towards and past them, going down the street the chapel was located. He stole a glance at their robes, confirming that they were indeed the cultists he was looking for. He walked on, then, out of sight of the cultists, leaned against the cobble-stone wall, and pulled out a cigarette. He was about to light it, when he noticed one of the cultists coming his way.

His right hand out of sight on his side, his fingers found the handle of his knife. His right arm tensed as the cultist slowly came towards him, carrying a leather bag on a rope, slung over his back. However, the cultists slowly shifted the direction of his walk slightly, passing by Donnovan. Donnovan relaxed slightly, but cursed silently to himself. He was wondering how he would sneak into the chapel, with the cultists constantly walking in and out of the building, when an idea came to him. Slowly and silently, he fell into step behind the cultist. His target didn't notice until he reached a side alleyway.

Donnovan sped up, then sprang into action. His arms wrapped around the cultist's neck and tightened. The cultist attempted to yell, but all that came out was a strangled cough. The figure struggled, but Donnovan's grip was too strong, as he dragged the squirming target into the side alleyway. After several seconds of this, the cultist began to weaken, his limbs pointlessly attempting to pry Donnovan's hands off of his throat. Acting quickly, Donnovan shifted his body and kneed the cultist in the stomach. The figure doubled over, and with all his might, Donnovan sent the cultist's head into the wall of the alleyway. There was a loud smack, and the cultist fell over, unmoving. Donnovan quickly took the cultist's robes, finding out that he had knocked unconscious a bald, skinny man. Donnovan quickly went back for the cultist's bag, and opened it. All that was inside was a change of clothes. He took and ripped a piece of a shirt, and shoved it into the man's mouth, making sure he couldn't close it. He then took the sleeves off of the shirt, and wrapped them tightly around the man's head, completely covering everything but the nose. Using the rope, Donnovan hog-tied the man, and dragged him further down the alley. Finding a nice niche to put him in, he made sure the man was out of sight. Donnovan donned the robes, making sure his face was hidden.

"_No going back now. I think I've broken at least three, Old Jerusalem laws right there."_ He thought as he stepped into the street and continued walking in the direction of the chapel.

The walk was much shorter than it had seemed last night, and as the chapel came into view, so did the armed guards flanking the doorway. Donnovan walked towards them, his eyes set on the door. As he passed by the guards, a moment of panic overtook him, as he wasn't sure how the door opened, and it would be a bit of a giveaway if he struggled with the handles. Luck seemed to be with him tonight, as another cultist opened the door and left, just as Donnovan reached the door. Donnovan slipped in as it closed, and found himself in a small entry hall. A doorway in front of him led to a large chapel, where several hooded cultists were seated, their heads bowed. No one was on the large stage in the back, but on the wall behind it, was a blood-covered cross with several holes in the horizontal piece. That settled it. This was definitely the cult. Now that one of the harder parts was done, he had his mind on a new goal. He had to find proof to bring this group down, and failing that, bring them down himself.

Several cultists walking past him into the chapel jerked him out of his thoughts, and he turned and walked into a side hall, making sure to check the doorway of every room he passed by. After several storage rooms and a broom closet, he came upon a door marked "Induction". As he paused at it, muffled voices could be heard. Donnovan stepped closer, as close as he could without literally putting his head on the door, and listened in.

"- the care you've put into keeping our rituals going, Michael."

"Thank you, Cardinal Matthew, that compliment means a lot coming from you."

"Well your work has deserved it. Tell me, when is our next sacrifice?"

"We have a steady supply. I sent for a one yesterday, and as usual, we shall have another. The butcher's timing has helped us immensely. He is unawareness helping in our rituals must be proof of our way being blessed by the Lord."

"Yes, now please…"

Donnovan heard footsteps, and backed up, but as he heard the door handle turn, he knew it was too late.

"I have a meeting." Matthew continued. The door opened, and a man in robes the same as Donnovan's, only tinged with silver, stepped out. His hood was back, a shaggy mane of black hair hanging from his skinny face, pale face. The man stared at Donnovan silently for several seconds.

"Don't be shy, my friend. You have joined a great, new family." Michael smiled, holding his hand out into the office, motioning for Donnovan to enter. With nothing else to do, Donnovan nodded, his face still covered in shadow by the hood. He walked in and stood in front of a beautiful, hand-carved, oak desk. At the desk sat a man also wearing the same-colored robes, only these were trimmed with a thick gold thread. His head was heavily scarred, and as he lifted his white-haired head, his wrinkled face looked directly at Donnovan.

"You are Jason, are you not?" The man asked, a surprisingly warm smile on his face. For some reason, however, a chill ran down Donnovan's spine as he looked back at the man. Donnovan simply nodded. "You have no need to be nervous. We are all family."

Donnovan stayed silent, only nodding again.

"A man of few words, aren't you?" The old man tilted his head. "Perhaps a good thing. You might end up being one of our greatest thinkers. Let me introduce myself. I am Cardinal Matthew, the leader of this sect of the Transitional Twilight Hand. You are more than welcome here. I have been told that all of the induction rituals have been completed, is that correct?"

Donnovan nodded.

"Good. Now, I just like to meet with all of our inductees. I just like to explain what the basics of our rules are. Only the chaplains are allowed in the rooms behind the altar. That is where they prepare for our daily rituals. As for the rest, would you like to know the basic ideas of our religion?"

Donnovan nodded again, his heart pounding fast. He had stumbled onto a treasure trove of information that he was so desperately looking for.

"Now, this is the most important part. We have congregations spread across this land, and we are expanding rapidly. Each of our groups follows the teachings of the Twilight Lord. His works have been spread across seven holy books. One has been destroyed during the chaos of several small battles out in a place called Point Lookout. One other one, I have been informed, is missing. Unfortunately, the missing book is also the one we use, sharing it with a congregation just outside of Washington D.C. Fear not, we will find it." Cardinal Matthew sighed. "However, our chaplains know the sermons by heart, and we are a strong group regardless."

Donnovan nodded yet again.

"Now that I have sufficiently talked your ear off," Cardinal Matthew smiled, "I will let you find your own way around the church. Make sure to gather in the chapel for our mass prayer in twenty minutes."

Donnovan nodded and bowed to the Cardinal, then slowly turned and walked out of the room. He turned to the right, and kept walking, not wanting to stop. His mind was racing with everything that has just been said. This group was indeed the same cult, he had a confirmed name, and he knew there were five holy books still in their possession. The Kriv'beknith, the first book that Donnovan had come across, had been destroyed after he got back from Point Lookout in the bowels of the dark and eerie Dunwich Building, and the Shothbarnir, this congregation's book, was in the possession of the expedition. With a random stroke of luck, he had found out almost everything he needed to know, all that was left was the sacrifices. If he could find some sort of proof that the group was harming people, he could bring them down. Only problem was getting to it. He would find everything he needed during the ritual tonight, however. All that was left was for the twenty minutes to count down. An idea suddenly came to Donnovan, and he turned and sprinted down the hallway, making sure to walk past the door of the Cardinal, and eventually found himself in the mostly empty chapel.

There were only half a dozen people in the pews, praying, while three chaplains were gathered near the altar. He walked along the left side of the room, keeping his eye on the chaplains, who were deep in discussion. His eyes found the curtain leading behind the stage. He double-checked, then slipped behind the stage. He found himself in a stone-covered room. A circular blood-covered table was in the center, and on the wall opposite the cross, a cut open man was splayed. His face was stitched shut completely, and his intestines were already hanging out in preparation for the ritual. Before the journey, Donnovan would have found this disgusting, but he had become tougher, and had seen this before. With a last, regretful glance at the man, he carefully snuck out of the room, and managed to slide into one of the pews in the chapel, unnoticed.

"_Sorry, buddy. The whole place needs to be brought down."_ He thought at the man hanging up out of sight of the paritioners, though he was curious as to why they hadn't brought him out. As time passed, people filed into the room. A cultist seated himself next to Donnovan.

"Only my fourth ritual." He whispered nervously. "You?"

"My third," Donnovan said, lying only slightly, as he remembered Obidiah Blackhall and the cult's mansion outside of D.C. "Just my first in this church. Just a question… where is the sacrifice here?"

"Only the chaplains and the cardinals know what animal we devour."

"Animal, huh?" Donnovan said, slightly confused.

The chapel was rather full now, and as Donnovan was collecting his thoughts, a voice rang out.

"Brothers and sisters!" One of the chaplains called out, and through the holes in the cross behind him, several intestines were pushed through. "Let us be one!"

The congregation all bowed their heads. Donnovan did as well, leaning his head as far forward as he could while still watching the ritual.

"Through and through, we bow our heads to thee!" The chaplain called out.

"Through and through we bow our heads to thee!" The congregation repeated.

As quietly as he could, Donnovan stood up and slowly walked out of the chapel.

"We call for your guidance!" The chaplain's voice carried out into the entry hall, as did the chanting that repeated him.

With goal now on his mind, Donnovan opened the door to the chapel and stepped into the street. He had taken only several steps before a voice called out to him.

"Where are you going? Services have just begun."

_"Shit."_ Donnovan thought. He had completely forgotten about the guards. He kept walking, not pausing, but hear the unmistakable sound of footfalls behind him. Judging by the sound of the steps, one of the guards had become suspicious and decided to follow him. There was nothing else for it. Donnovan kept walking, the guard silently following him. Eventually, Donnovan reached the entry to the alleyway where he had knocked out the first cultist. He stopped and turned around to face the guard.

"What are you doing? You should be inside praying." The guard stated, a tone of caution in his voice. Only his nose and mouth were visible in the lamplight of the street. Silently, Donnovan pointed back the way they had traveled. The guard turned around and looked, and Donnovan immediately took advantage of his successful bluff.

His left arm flew out, covering the man's face, while his right unsheathed his K-BAR. He pulled his left arm back, bringing the cultist's body closer to his, and with his right, plunged the knife into the man's chest. There was a sickening scratching sound as the knife found its way between the man's ribs and into his heart, and the cultist shuddered violently, his hood falling back. It only took a few seconds, and the guard's eyes rolled back into his head, giving him a ghost-like expression, and Donnovan dragged his body into the alleyway. After unceremoniously leaving it on the now conscious-but-gagged cultist he had knocked out earlier, Donnovan wiped the blood off of his blade on the guard's clothes and sheathed it. He threw off his cultist robes, then sprinted out of the alleyway and back into the market. He tripped over a passed-out man and hit the pavement rather hard. Cursing in anger, he picked himself up and walked over to a nearby guard, who was laughing at the scene.

"Guard station… Where's the guard station?" He asked.

The guard's attitude immediately changed.

"What is this for?" he seriously asked.

"It's important, but I need to find Shorik David. Please, take me there, now."

"Okay, okay!" The guard stated, seeing the energetic look in Donnovan's eyes. "Follow me."

With that, the two of them sprinted down a separate, winding street, the guard leading the way.


	12. Madness

**Part 12 – Madness**

Donnovan and the guard sprinted past the open front doors of a large, two-story, brown-brick building and up to a wooden desk, where an extremely surprised receptionist sat bolt upright, not expecting any visitors this late at night.

"Get Shorik, please." The guard asked, slightly out of breath. The receptionist, still surprised, nodded, and pressed a button on her desk.

"He will be out in a minute." She stated. Donnovan turned around, leaning against the receptionist's desk, and took in his surroundings. The metal shelves lining the wall contained all sorts of pictures, and a big tapestry hanging from the ceiling was adorned with the icons of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam intertwining, superimposed over a massive mushroom cloud. A string of words stating "Let us not forget the lessons of the past. Co-operation or mutual destruction." wound around the icons.

Donnovan's heart was still pounding from his escape from the Transitional Twilight Hand chapel and the run, and he attempted to gather his thoughts into several coherent sentences in his head that he could tell Shorik. Suddenly, a hand tapped Donnovan's arm.

"Book!" Donnovan yelled in surprise, his string of thoughts on the holy books of the cult being interrupted.

"Uh… Can I help you, Donnovan?" Shorik David asked, looking slightly amused at Donnovan's reaction.

"What…" Donnovan shook his head, "what would you do if you found out one of the religious groups here was hurting people?"

Shorik's grin faded almost immediately.

"What do you mean?"

"Twilight Hand. I've run into them before. They had this massive mansion outside the Capital Wasteland. They had all kinds of sick rituals…" Donnovan began to ramble. "We ended up killing the entire congregation there after we stopped one of their rituals…"

"What rituals?" Shorik asked.

"Then found more, so I killed them because they were suffering."

"What… Wait-"

"So we found them here, and thought we might-"

"HEY!" Shorik finally yelled. Donnovan looked up. "Would you please slow down, my friend? What rituals?"

"They use people about to die, and eat their intestines…" Donnovan answered. The guard who he had come into the lobby with stared silently, horrified, while the receptionist's jaw dropped.

"This cannot be…" Shorik shook his head. "We make sure to investigate these groups."

"Did you ever go into their prep room?" Donnovan asked.

"Well no, we respect the beliefs of every group-"

"And didn't you say you have merchants and travelers disappear?"

"Yes, but as I have said," Shorik began, though Donnovan was sensing that he was getting through to him. "Quite a few go missing because they forget to sign out when they leave."

"Oh come on, Shorik." Donnovan sighed. "That's a perfect opportunity for them."

"How do you know that this group does what the others do?" Shorik asked. Donnovan was silent. It was inevitable that they would come to this.

"I… I kind of snuck in. Knocked out one of their worshippers." Donnovan admitted, not making eye contact.

"You what?" Shorik gasped. "And here I thought you were a calm individual."

"After seeing what these people do, you wouldn't be very calm either." Donnovan said darkly. For now, he'd leave out the guard he had killed until this problem was solved.

"Okay…Know that you will be talked to as well." Shorik told him, "But let us go and see. Ben?"

"Yes?" Said the guard who had escorted Donnovan to the station.

"Come with us." Shorik commanded. He turned to Donnovan. "Okay, lead the way."

Donnovan nodded and turned, jogging towards the doorway. No sooner had he exited into the street, than he collided with someone, and they both tumbled to the ground.

"Gah, shit!" Donnovan cursed. "Sorry."

"Would you stop fucking running into me, you prick?" Glade stated, picking himself up. "At least I found you. Where the hell have you been?"

"Doesn't matter." Donnovan stated. "I'll explain in a second. You armed?"

"Uh…" Glade paused, glancing at Ben and Shorik coming out of the station behind Donnovan. "… Maybe…"

"It's fine, we might need you to be." Donnovan whispered to him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Glade asked as he fell into step beside Donnovan.

Donnovan told Glade everything he had done that night as the group of four walked the path to the chapel. Glade listened open-mouthed to everything, rolling his eyes several times when Donnovan told him about the drastic things he'd done. As the chapel came into view, Donnovan tensed up. The remaining cultist guard was still there, and stared at the group as they walked up to him.

"Shorik David," Shorik said, holding up a badge. "I'm a lieutenant in the city guard. We will have to come in."

The hooded guard remained still for several seconds, then nodded. He stepped forward and opened the door for them. All glancing at him, the group entered.

"This way," Donnovan grunted, leading them into the main prayer hall. Many cultists were still in the pews, praying, and a small queue was passing by the stage, each member taking a bite of the intestines still hanging through the cross.

"You had better be right about this." Glade grumbled.

"Attention, please!" Shorik suddenly called out. Every member of the cult froze, and, in unison, turned their heads towards the group. Though he had seen it before, Donnovan nevertheless felt a chill go down his spine. Something about their organized movements was extremely eerie.

"Hello, I am Cardinal Matthew." A soft voice behind them stated, making all of them but Shorik jump.

"We've met before." Shorik held his hand out. Cardinal Matthew smiled and shook it.

"Lieutenant David." Cardinal Matthew stated. "So good to see you. Can I help you with something?"

"Yes… I apologize for the intrusion, but we would like to see your sacrifices."

"Of course." Cardinal Matthew nodded. Donnovan was taken aback. Shorik shot him a curious glance before looking back at Cardinal Matthew. "Please, Chaplain Johnathan!"

"Yes, Cardinal?" A chaplain with silver-tinged robes on the stage asked.

"Continue with the ritual, but please, bring out the carcass."

"Of course, Cardinal." Jonathan nodded. The queue of cultists taking bites from the flesh continued, and Jonathan disappeared behind the curtains to the preparation room, and several seconds later came out with a covered cart, wheeling it past the worshipping cultists and up to the group.

"I apologize for the cart. Our members are not allowed to see the animal we devour." Chaplain Jonathan explained. He lifted part of the covering, to reveal a hollowed out pig carcass. Its intestines were missing, only it's bones and skin remained.

Donnovan was completely confused. Glade looked relieved, Ben rolled his eyes, and Shorik looked annoyed.

"Alright, thank you. We appreciate it." Shorik stated. "Well-"

He was interrupted as the chapel doors swung open, and a cultist came in carrying an injured man that Donnovan recognized as Jason, the cultist he had knocked out and impersonated.

"That's him!" Jason yelled, pointing at Donnovan. "He knocked me out and killed Guardian Patrick!"

"You did what!" Shorik yelled.

Donnovan was at a loss for words and action. He stood rooted to the spot, trying to figure out how this had happened.

"You killed one of them, for what, that they use regular animals as sacrifices?" Shorik yelled angrily. "I thought you knew from history, about taking things too far!"

"Yes, we get our sacrifices from the butcher, daily, at around midnight." Chaplain Jonathan explained. Donnovan's mind suddenly began working again. That phrase had found something familiar in his brain, part of the conversation he had overheard a short time before between Cardinal Matthew and Chaplain Michael. Without a second thought, Donnovan kicked Chaplain Jonathan, who was standing in front of Cardinal Matthew,to the ground. He then sprang forward, throwing his left arm around the Cardinal's head. His right arm, meanwhile, unholstered Dusk's borrowed, silenced 10-millimeter pistol and pressed the silencer under the Cardinal's jaw.

"What are you doing?" Shorik yelled, putting his rifle to his shoulder as Donnovan stepped back, putting himself and the cardinal into a corner. Ben shouldered his rifle as well, aiming it at Donnovan, while Glade, stunned for a moment, belatedly pulled out his own sidearm and stepped back, aiming at Ben.

"What the fuck, Don?" Glade yelled.

"He's fucking lying." Donnovan spat, making sure to partially hide his head behind the Cardinal's body. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he added, addressing a guardian that had shown up. The guardian was about to fire at Donnovan's leg. "Look at my finger. Any unexpected force, and the gun will go off, and you can say goodbye to your precious Cardinal."

"My son, if you let me go right now, I will-" Cardinal Matthew began.

"Shut your fucking mouth, you sick bastard." Donnovan growled. "Listen up! Chaplain Jonathan mentioned the butcher. That reminded me. Somebody bring him here, and I can prove to you those intestines are human. They have some poor bastard strung up back there." Chaplain Jonathan glanced at the cross. "Don't remove them, or I will kill the Cardinal." Donnovan warned.

"You are insane! Stop this madness, now!" Shorik commanded.

"I promise you, if you bring the butcher, everything will be as I told you. He used to be a doctor. If everything isn't like I said it is, I will let you lock me up, shoot me, whatever."

"This… butcher…" Ben stated.

"He has a stand in the market. It should be the only one open this late. Go, now, fast!" Donnovan exclaimed.

Ben looked at David, whose eyes were still on Donnovan. He nodded slowly.

"Go, fast. Do this before someone else gets hurt."

With a glance at Glade, Ben ran out of the chapel. It was quiet as the congregation watched the scene. Several minutes of silence were finally broken.

"Don… Just so you know," Glade stated, his gun now aimed at Shorik. "the only reason I've got my gun on him is because he's got his on you, and you are a brother to me." He paused "But personally, I think now you've gone off the deep end."

"What?" Donnovan said, his head still slightly shielded by the Cardinal's.

"We all were affected by that mansion. Those poor prisoners…"

"You didn't have to put a bullet into each of their skulls to end their suffering, Glade." Donnovan stated, slightly angry. "You didn't go back and see those slave collars. This entire fucking religion as to burn. These bastards are the same as those in the mansion, you just watch."

"I do not understand how someone like you," Shorik stated, gun still trained on Donnovan, "can do this. We must all be free to worship, and leave others alone to do the same. Do you not remember?"

"I remember, Shorik, but these people cause suffering. Even so, I know full well I am acting with incredible hypocrisy to my own beliefs." Donnovan said.

At that moment, the door to the chapel was thrown open, and Ben and the butcher Donnovan had previously spoken to came into the room.

"What… W-?" The butcher began, staring at the scene in front of him.

"Please, wait." Shorik stated. "Okay Donnovan, do what you wanted to do."

"Hey, uh…" Donnovan said. "I never got your name."

"Sohail." The butcher stated, staring at Donnovan.

"Okay, my name's Donnovan. Sohail…" Donnovan said. "I need your expertise. See that cart in front of you? What is that inside of it."

"A… pig." Sohail said nervously.

"We know it's a god damn pig Don, we can see that." Glade cursed.

"Shut the fuck up for a minute, man." Donnovan yelled. "Okay, now, Sohail. Do you see that cross?"

"Cross?" Sohail turned. "Yes, I…" He stopped cold.

"What?" Glade asked.

"Yes, what is it, Sohail?" Donnovan asked, extremely tense.

"Strange…" Sohail stated. "Those look… strange…"

"Can you do me a favor and examine those, please?"

"Only our chaplains are-" Cardinal Matthew began, a note of panic in his voice. He was cut off as the silencer pressed harder into his jaw.

"Go ahead." Shorik spoke up. Though his gun was still trained on Donnovan, his eyes were now on Cardinal Matthew. Sohail walked down the aisle and climbed onto the stage. He paused briefly, then passed by a cultist holding one of the intestines and examined one of the others. He pulled what appeared to be a small pen knife out of his back pocket and, using the handle moved the intestine slightly. He immediately took a step back.

"These…" He said, aghast. "There are… human!" The cultist who was holding one of the intestines dropped it in horror, backing away. The stage ended, and the cultist awkwardly fell backwards off of it, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Shorik glanced over at Sohail, then looked at Ben.

"Keep your rifle on him. I will go investigate." Shorik stated. He turned to Donnovan, lowering his gun as Ben raised his. "You said they have somebody back there?"

"Yeah, go see for yourself." Donnovan said. His heart was pounding fast again.

"Only-" Cardinal Matthew began again, but this time, Shorik cut him off.

"Please, be quiet until we figure this out." He commanded, walking down the aisle. He made his way around the stage and to the curtain. He paused for a moment, then stepped through. Several second later, a yell of disbelief could be heard, and Shorik stumbled out of the back, his hand to his mouth.

"You were right!" He yelled.

"KILL THEM!" Cardinal Matthew suddenly yelled. "Preserve our ways!"

Everything seemed to happen at once. The guardian that had appeared previously aimed and fired just as Donnovan leapt out of the way, rolling to the ground. The bullets impacted the Cardinal's flesh, sending blood spatters onto the wall behind him. He fell heavily back, sliding down the wall, leaving a thick swath of blood in his wake.

Glade turned and elbowed the guardian in the face, sending him stumbling backwards. Before he could recover, Glade put two rounds into the man's chest, and he sprawled over the back of the last row of pews, awkwardly crumbling to the floor. There were shouts from all around, and from a door across the prayer chamber, several other guardians came running out. Shorik was ready this time, and let loose with his assault rifle, dropping the guardian unlucky enough to be the first to emerge. Shorik sprinted up towards the group as Ben gunned down another guardian who had been lining up a shot at Donnovan. The cultist's fingers pulled down on the trigger as he fell, sending a burst of bullets a foot to Donnovan's left, causing the wall to exhale thick white dust and splinters to fly from several of the pews.

"Let's go!" Shorik yelled, running past them. Donnovan's gun coughed very loudly, and a 10-millimeter round pitched the head of another guardian back, his body following.

"Don't have to tell me twice." Donnovan answered, joining the others who were running out of the chapel, heads bowed, bullets impacting the walls around them, raining bits of brick and plaster down on their heads.


	13. Repercussions

**Part 13 - Repercussions**

Donnovan scrambled out of the front doors of the chapel as 5.56 rounds turned them into splinters to see Sohail disappearing around the corner of the church. He followed, turning back briefly to fire a few rounds into the doorway, causing a cultist to duck inside the church to get out of the line of fire. Donnovan found that Sohail, Glade, Ben, and Shorik had taken cover against the side of the chapel.

"Shouldn't we get help?" Donnovan yelled over the gunfire as bullets dug into the corner of the chapel, several inches from his head.

"I'll be surprised if the whole city isn't awake by now." Shorik stated, glancing down the street as lights came on in buildings and several heads poked out of their houses in curiosity, only to go hiding back inside upon hearing the deep-gullet roar of the cultists' AK-47s.

"People can't have it… They don't understand it…" Glade was repeating to himself, over and over.

"The fuck are you talking about?" Donnovan asked.

"Uh, never mind." Glade shook his head.

Something heavy landed near Donnovan's feet with a metallic ring. As he looked down, Donnovan's heart stopped. He immediately picked up the active fragmentation grenade and, not peering around the corner, blindly threw in back in the direction from which it came. An explosion could be heard, followed by a painful scream.

"Where the hell are the city guards?" Donnovan yelled in frustration. "We can't stay here forever."

"Any minute now." Ben, who was sitting with his back against the wall, loading single rounds into an empty magazine, answered. "They had to have heard the first few shots."

"We're going to have a long talk when this is over, my friend." Shorik told Donnovan, his shoulder pressed against the church wall as gunfire impacted the ground and corner yet again, sending bits of brick flying everywhere. Finally, from several corners of the alley, uniformed city guards appeared. From down the street, a low metallic screech began. Donnovan looked in the direction of the noise to see several large sheets of grey metal moving up the street towards the chapel. Behind each shield, city guards wearing T-51b power armor were marching, crouched down, their helmeted heads set behind the sights of what looked to be pre-war Galil assault rifles. They fired in short, controlled bursts, and every few times they did, one of the roaring AK-47s was silenced. A painful yelp sporadically drifted around the chapel's corner where Donnovan was poised, signaling that the 5.56 rounds had found their mark.

"Holy fuck! Is that your regular security force?" Glade asked.

"No, no. That is our heavy response team. Any time there is any gunfire in the city, they are deployed." Shorik explained.

"God damn," Donnovan whistled appreciatively, "you guys don't fuck around, do you?"

"Respect for others view, so long as they don't erupt into violence." Shorik stated simply. "Something you briefly forgot in that church."

"Oh come the fuck on, you see that they're not peaceful." Donnovan rolled his eyes.

"We'll talk." Shorik stated simply as the heavily armored guards came within fifteen feet of them, and the last of the cultists was finally taken down. A silence settled on the street, the only sound coming from the spent casings of 5.56 round rolling down the street and the reloading of guns.

Their nerves slowly calming, the group stepped forward to meet with the guards. Several of them were walking around the entrance of the church. One began to make his way to the doors.

"Lieutenant David." The man nodded, speaking in a heavy Arabic accent, his voice carrying in the strange muffled, somewhat electronic resonance that power armor causes.

"Thank you, Salim." Shorik stated. "We were afraid you might have forgotten us."

"We heard gunfire break out, and gathered the team together." Salim answered. "How did all of this happen?" His armored head turned to look at Donnovan and Glade, when the exploding sound of a shotgun carried from the doorway. The guard that had stepped inside went stumbling backwards, hitting the cobble-stone ground hard, grunting in pain. A cultist guard that had apparently hidden inside stepped out into the street and leveled his shotgun at Shorik. There was another thunderous sound from behind the group, and the cultist's head disappeared into a red mist, pieces of skull clattering to the ground. His body fell to its knees and forward, while the guard who had been shot painfully picked himself up off the ground.

"Men… Can't ever finish right." A familiar voice from behind the group made an innuendo-filled statement. Donnovan and Glade whirled around to see Dusk standing tall, her prized sniper rifle in her arms. She pulled the bolt back, ejecting the spent shell, which fell to the ground, bouncing with a ring. Glade literally sprinted towards her and wrapped her into a tight hug, swinging her around. Donnovan smiled, walking towards the two, as Glade put Dusk down, who was blushing slightly.

"Christ, you're lazy." Donnovan grinned, stepping up to her as she hugged him as well.

"Go fuck yourself." She smiled as she pulled away.

"When'd you wake up?" Donnovan asked.

"A few hours ago. Morgan filled me in on everything..." Dusk's face fell. "... Can't believe Vargas is gone."

"Don't forget McGraw..." Donnovan added.

"Donnovan, please come with me." Shorik had appeared behind Donnovan. "We have a few things to discuss."

"Shit... Okay..." Donnovan sighed. Dusk looked at him curiously. "Glade will tell you. I'll hook up with you guys back at the hotel."

"Good thing, too!" Dusk called as she and Glade started down the path back to the market, Glade putting his arm around her. "We need to get going."

"Yeah..." Donnovan stated, not looking forward to the conversation he was about to have.

...

"Alright, thank you for co-operating." Shorik stated, standing up out of his chair. Donnovan did the same, shaking hands with him.

"How long do I have to leave for?" Donnovan asked.

"Well, normally, it'd be a permanent ban, but, because the circumstances are so strange... I'll say, one year."

"Better than forever, I guess." Donnovan said glumly. He had been looking forward to wandering New Jerusalem and learning more of its history. But perhaps Dusk was right; it was time for them to go.

"You don't have a choice, my friend." Shorik stated as he led Donnovan out into the lobby of the guard station. "Our laws are there for a reason."

"Yeah, I know... I just... Bah." Donnovan threw his arms up.

"Lieutenant David." A familiar voice called. Salim, the captain of the armored city guard was striding toward them. His helmet was off, held in his left hand, revealing a long, tan face and thick black beard.

"What is it?"

"We obtained these after searching the church." Salim stated. He held out his hand, which was gripping three metal slave collars. One looked slightly rusty, and another was lightly stained with blood.

"Slave collars?" Shorik looked confused, taking the metal rings.

"Can I see one of those, please?" Donnovan asked. Shorik glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, before handing one over. Donnovan turned it and sure enough, found the Vault Tec logo engraved in the collar. "See that?" He tilted the collar to Shorik, who nodded.

"Vault Tec?" Shorik tilted his head in curiosity. "Why... Why is that there?"

"Dammit." Donnovan cursed. "I was hoping you knew more than I did. All I know is that the cultists call them 'necklaces of persuasion'. What the hell Vault Tec has to do with any of this, I have no idea."

"That is very, very curious." Shorik stated, turning over the two collars still in his hand to look at the logo.

"Hey... This is going to sound weird but... Can I keep this one?" Donnovan asked. Shorik looked at him, surprised.

"Whatever for?"

"I found a few others in that mansion I mentioned, along with... some survivors." Donnovan said. He had almost told Shorik about the scrolls and the Shothbarnir, but decided against it. "I just figure having another one from this church might help me figure out where they came from... Or more to the point, why the fuck they even exist."

"Oh... Alright..." Shorik stated. "Your expulsion still stands, I hope you understand that."

"Yeah, be gone by noon tomorrow, right?"

Shorik nodded.

"Alright. Will do. It was nice meeting you Shorik." Donnovan said.

"The same to you." Shorik called as Donnovan stepped out into the street. He made his way back to the hotel. As he walked, a heavy feeling settled in his heart. He should be happy. He had purged another group of these cultists. He had gotten away with a rather light punishment, considering the laws he had broken, and yet, there was something else. Donnovan stopped outside the entrance to his hotel and sat on a nearby barrel, letting his legs swing slightly from it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He hadn't touched it since the expedition had left the Citadel, the one he dropped before knocking out the cultist not withstanding. For some reason now, he had a sudden urge for one. He lit the end and slowly and deeply inhaled. Glade and Dusk stepped out of the doorway and noticed him. Donnovan nodded at her, slowly exhaling the acrid smoke from his lungs.

"You okay?" Dusk asked immediately, noticing Donnovan's sullen expression.

"Not really." Donnovan admitted, taking another drag off of his cigarette.

"Well... details motherfucker. Don't be a woman." Glade teased. Dusk smacked him across the back of the head.

"What I did was wrong..." Donnovan stated simply.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Dusk asked. "I thought you were all gung-ho about killing these guys."

"I was… Or still am, rather... But I realize I've been a hypocrite. I've literally committed something that I've always believed was wrong."

"Huh?" Glade said, confused.

"Look... We've talked before. What our branch of the Brotherhood's been about... Freedom for people, right? Freedom to make their own choices, without being forced to do anything."

"Yeah." Dusk said.

"I've pretty much betrayed that here."

"How so?" Dusk asked, curious.

"I broke their right to privacy and safety to get into the church and find dirt on them."

"But they were torturing people. That's justifiable." Glade argued.

"Where does it stop?" Donnovan asked, turning his head towards him. "For you, that's justifiable. But you're human… I'm human, we all are… Human beings are fallible."

"But they were KILLING PEOPLE." Glade emphasized.

"We do the same thing on a personal level. Tell me, you've shot at a ghoul before, right, a non-feral one?"

"Uh…" Glade glanced at Dusk. "Well yeah…"

"Why?" Donnovan asked.

"It's a ghoul…"

"And…?"

"There's a good chance we was going to turn feral."

"So you shot at a sentient, thinking, feeling being… because there's a good chance it might go mad some time in the future."

"Yeah…"

"Whether it does or not, is irrelevant. You made the decision to infringe upon something else's rights, for what you saw as the greater good. Same thing I did."

"But they go crazy later."

"Doesn't matter. What about a ghoul's viewpoint? There's a good chance the Brotherhood of Steel Knight he sees wandering around kills or has killed ghouls. He might be a level-headed knight who doesn't care, but to the ghoul, it doesn't matter. The risk is worth it, so he kills him just in case. Same exact logic."

Glade looked stumped.

"What's your point, though? That's a human thing." Dusk wondered.

"I guess that's my point… I don't have one. We're defense attorneys and advocates for ourselves, despite our hypocritical actions and statements. No one's immune."

"So why don't you just kill yourself, no point in humans living, right?" Glade joked.

"I don't know why I don't, honestly." Donnovan said thoughtfully. Glade simply stared, this not being the response he expected. "But in the end, it'd be just as pointless as arguing what I'm arguing now."

"Uh…" Glade stated, trying to think of something to say.

"So what, in your view, people are…" Dusk, who was still engaged in the conversation, said.

"Absolute shit… By nature. We have that drive to look out only for ourselves and justify our own disgusting actions, whether to others or to ourselves."

"I dunno. Overall, we're shit, sure. But I think the potential to screw others over, and overcoming that urge, can make for some beautiful moments."

"We still have that urge though."

"We're only human, Don."

Donnovan was silent, staring off into the distance. He was brought back to reality by a burning sensation near his fingers. Jerking his hand up slightly out of surprise, he tossed the cigarette, which had burned to the filter, down onto the ground. He had apparently been musing so long that the cigarette had burned away.

"Cheer up. We're heading out tomorrow." Dusk stated, crushing the cigarette butt under her feet for him.

"Like I have a friggin' choice." Donnovan grunted, jumping off of the barrel. "It's gonna suck leaving this place. I really wanted to explore some more."

"Well maybe if you didn't break about fifty laws before you actually, know you, broke fifty more inside the church, you could hang around some more." Dusk laughed as she led the way inside.


	14. Old Memories, New Realizations

**Part 14 – Old Memories, New Realizations**

The night seemed endless as Donnovan lay on his back, staring at the dusty wooden ceiling of his hotel room. Glade was in the other bed, fast asleep. As much as he wanted to blame his lack of sleep on Glade's snoring, Donnovan knew it was truly his anger at himself. His eyes pointlessly followed the lines in the wooden ceiling as he thought about his actions several hours before. He knew he shouldn't have done what he did, even before he set out, there was the nagging doubt in the back of his head. However, his urge to get what he wanted out of the cultists took over and repressed those level-headed thoughts through internal, self-righteous tirades. After three hours of this, Donnovan's patience was exhausted. He slowly climbed out of bed, threw some clothes on, and made his way downstairs to the lobby.

The bar was filled with quite a few people. Countless figures sat at tables drinking and conversing. Dusty coats and dirt-caked goggles sat on tired looking travelers and traders, their mouths discussing the events of the day. Donnovan found several open chairs at the bar counter and, feeling anti-social, seated himself in the corner and ordered a drink.

His heart was heavy, clenched in his chest as he sat at the bar. Everything inside him screamed for him to stay in this city. From his history obsession to the incredible cultural revelations, there was so much he could learn from New Jerusalem. He sat at the bar in the lobby of the hotel nursing a beer in one hand while a lit cigarette hung from his lips. His other hand was at his forehead, fingers gripping his hair, elbow on the counter. His mind was constantly dwelling on the wonders of New Jerusalem that he hadn't yet had time to experience. Now, because of his actions, he would have to bury his curiosity for a good, long time.

"Hey…" A soft voice to his left said. Donnovan looked over to find that Amata had taken a seat at the bar next to him. The bartender walked up, but Amata shook her head. The color had returned to her face since the expedition first ran into her down in Hellfire Crater. A decent amount of rest and relatively fresh food had helped her recover significantly, though her eyes still looked slightly terrified.

"Uh… Hey…" Donnovan answered, rather awkwardly, taking another drink from his beer. "How you feelin'?"

"Better." Amata answered. "We haven't gotten to talk since the canyon…"

"Canyon?" Donnovan raised an eyebrow at her, some feelings of slight resentment resurfacing as he looked at Amata. "I'd say since you kicked me out of Vault 101 permanently."

"It was… for the best…" Amata stated awkwardly.

"For the best?" Donnovan scoffed. "The Vault would still be in the middle of a Civil War, or fucking their own relatives if I hadn't convinced your murdering, piece of shit father to not be such a hardass." Through the chaos of the events down in Hellfire Crater, Donnovan had briefly buried his bitter memories of the other residents of Vault 101. Now that the expedition was out of danger, these sentiments seemed to be resurfacing.

Amata looked shocked.

"I… Don't…" She stuttered.

"What the fuck ever." Donnovan rolled his eyes, taking another swig from his beer. "You know that shit's true. I don't know why I let him live for what he did to Jonas."

"The Vault needed you gone..."

"That's why you left, right? Because everyone needed to stay in there… Traders area allowed in, too now… I'm just not."

"Look, I just wanted to thank you." Amata spoke up. Donnovan fell silent. "I would've died down there if you guys hadn't come along and taken me with you."

"It's not like we were looking for you." Donnovan grunted. "It's lucky we even found that cave… Lucky we didn't all die down there."

"Well, either way. You could've left me down there." Amata said.

"Yeah, but I didn't. I figured, you know, everyone needs support." He glared at Amata, who hung her head. Donnovan finished his beer and managed to get the bartender's attention long enough to order a second one. "I didn't even get to download all of the history documents I wanted from the terminals… It was just: 'Hey, you fixed our problem? Thanks! Now get the hell out.'"

"Look, okay… If we get back to Vault 101, I'll let you back in. You can live there again."

"Fuck… At this point, I have a new home. Only thing you and the other pampered Vault brats are good for now is information." Donnovan sneered, though he was not quite being honest. He did kind of miss several of the people down in the vault. "Did anyone besides you leave?"

"Yeah… Butch has been going out there every so often. He's kind of gotten his whole 'Tunnel Snake' thing off the ground." Amata answered, happy for a change of subject.

"His gang's going strong, then?"

"Yeah, he's said he's gotten a group going outside the Vault. They kind of come in every once in a while as traders, but… Yeah." She trailed off, knowing that this might lead right back into the subject of Donnovan's resentment. She thought of another subject. "So, uh… To get ready, I downloaded a basic rundown of all languages into my Pipboy."

"You can do that?" Donnovan asked, begrudgingly letting his interest get in the way of his anger.

"Well, not everyone. But I got into my dad's terminal. They had a bunch of different languages. Some I hadn't even seen before. It was pretty cool. I guess it's a tool for overseers if people find their way into the Vault." Amata explained. "It's nice. It's got greetings and the alphabet, and a bunch of other stuff that no one will use… One phrase that's everywhere is: can you direct me to the airport… Don't really know why we'd use that…"

"That's… cool." Donnovan stated, feeling a slight grin appear on his face despite his attempts to stay angry. His interest had completely taken over his anger. "Remind me to see if I can't get that stuff from you tomorrow."

She bantered on with him about random subjects, ranging from Donnovan's adventures in the Capital Wasteland to Amata's first experiences dealing with the mutated wildlife. Eventually, Donnovan finished his third beer. He put the bottle on the counter, then got out of his seat.

"I'm going to bed." He said, rather curtly, and walked from the counter and out of the bar, leaving Amata sitting in her seat, looking somewhat surprised.

Donnovan dropped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling again. He lay for a while, until he could feel the alcohol take effect. Slowly, the slight haze in his head made him sleepier, and before he knew it, he eventually slid into a sleep, completely shutting everything out around him, including Glade's loud snores.

…..

Donnovan awoke several hours later. It was still rather early, and Glade was still asleep. As quietly as he could, he gathered his gear. He had planned on stepping out into the streets and using what little time he had left to wander the city, but as he lifted his backpack, something jarred into his thoughts. The scrolls. He had completely forgotten about the Shothbarnir and the scrolls he had taken from the mansion. Perhaps his time in the chapel here could shed some light on the scrolls or the book. Quietly, he left the room and headed outside into the street. He followed the wall of the hotel and turned the corner down into a quiet alley. Sitting himself on the ground, back against the wall, he unfurled the scrolls and began to look over them. They didn't look any different, just the same strange, sinister-looking, curving symbols. He picked up the Shothbarnir and flipped through the pages, hoping to find some sort of key, or a clue, anything, but there was nothing to be found.

In slight desperation, he dug through the rest of his pack, looking for anything that could help. His hands eventually found the slave collars, and he pulled one out. He ran his fingers across the Vault Tec logo, wondering even more what the company had to do with any of this. Unavoidably, his mind strayed back to Vault 101 and how he grew up there: the times he had helped Jonas and his father with their work, the games he used to play with the other vault kids, hanging out with Amata… This train of thought led him directly back to the conversation he had with her yesterday. He was beginning to think that he might have been too hard on her, and that she didn't always follow her father unquestioningly. She did, after all, attempt to make him see reason when the Vault split into two factions. She did break into his office several times to find information, the last time stealing some valuable software that could translate many different languages. Donnovan's mind suddenly grinded to a halt. That was it.

He stood up so fast that the Shothbarnir and the scrolls, which he had left on his lap, went flying across the alley and hit the wall across from him. Hastily, he gathered them up, making sure not to leave anything behind. His mind sprung back into action as he shoved his things into his backpack. The language software Amata had downloaded. There might be a hint there. As he tossed the slave collar inside, he made note yet again of the Vault Tec logo. It was nothing if not a dubious connection, but he'd have to go with it, despite its abnormality.

After all, this was a different world where the word "normal" was very relative. Over the course of his travels, he had exploded the heads of several animals with a tree branch, convinced a robot that he was Thomas Jefferson, argued with a tree named Harold, met a man with the ludicrous name of Abraham Washington, gotten pinched in the buttocks by a walking crab man (Glade found that situation particularly hilarious), and come across a fungus that fed on human meat. Taking all of this into account, the word "normal" was rather useless. With his belongings gathered, he shouldered his pack and sprinted back inside the hotel. He leapt up the steps three at a time and eventually found himself in front of Amata's room. He knocked impatiently, waited several seconds, then knocked again. He knocked a third time, and finally heard Amata's voice.

"I'm coming, be patient! God." Amata wrenched the door open. "What d-?"

"Language software, now! Please!" Donnovan practically yelled at her as he stepped inside.

"Lang- you woke me up for this?"

"Software! Please! Now! Language!" Donnovan yelled, the rush of blood from the realization taking over his common sense and causing him to half-yell in fragments.

"Calm down, here." Amata sighed, grabbing Donnovan's Pipboy and holding it to hers. Several button presses later, Donnovan wrenched his hand away, walked over to the window, and sat down on the sill. He unfurled the scrolls, then turned to his Pipboy, cycling through the languages. He saw the ones he had expected, such as French, Spanish, Russian, Mandarin, Japanese. Eventually, his list came to the end with a familiar set of symbols. Excitedly, he selected this and a list appeared on his Pipboy screen. He scrolled past the letters, giving a ironic chuckle at the phrase "can you direct me to the butcher?", and found what he had been looking for: an alphabetical listing of the letters and their pronunciation. As quickly as he could, he sounded out the first sentence on a random scroll.

"Alhen gnor lo b'narir." He stated enthusiastically. His smiled faded almost immediately. Though he now had a pronunciation guide, he was back to where he started as far as knowing what these words meant. He looked over to see that Dusk, who was apparently staying in the same room as Amata, was sitting up in the other bed, staring at him. She had apparently been woken by Donnovan's excited yells.

"Uh…" She stated, trying not to laugh from the phrase Donnovan had just said. "B-bless you?"

Donnovan couldn't help but snicker.

"Remind me." He stated, addressing Dusk. "Thanks to her," he pointed at Amata, "I've got a guide how to say this confusing shit now."

"You sounded like the retarded offspring of Glade and a molerat…" Dusk yawned. "What the hell's that mean?"

"That's the problem." Donnovan admitted, shrugging.

"Well, at least it's something."

"Excuse me, but what are you even talking about?" Amata asked, looking from Dusk to Donnovan and back.

Donnovan and Dusk exchanged glances, both wordlessly wondering the same thing: was it time to share this with the rest of the expedition?


	15. Once More, Into the Wastes

**Part 15 – Once More, Into the Wastes**

The sun shined brightly in the streets of New Jerusalem. The expedition had loaded their packs and animals, buying several replacements as well. Everything was ready for them, but the human members of the group were in the lobby of the hotel.

"Hurry up," Dusk stated, glancing at a clock on the wall. "We've got about forty-five minutes before you've got to be out of here." She was standing on a table next to Donnovan, while Glade had one hand propped on it, leaning in to them. After a short debate, they agreed to share everything they had learned about the Transitional Twilight Hand cult with the other members of the expedition.

"Good call." Donnovan nodded, then turned to the others. "Everyone, listen up. I have an announcement to make."

"You're finally coming out of the closet?" Glade joked.

"Man, fuck you." Donnovan cursed as several members of the expedition stifled laughs. He turned back to them. "So… Uh… We… That's Glade, Dusk, and myself, haven't exactly been honest with everyone."

Morrill cocked an eyebrow suspiciously, Cross tilted her head slightly, and Rockfowl looked puzzled.

"We've known more about this cult that we've been admitting." Dusk chimed in.

"Yeah. So we figured that everyone should know what we know." Donnovan stated. "After I went back to the mansion-,"

"And set it on fire, you fucking pyro." Glade stated.

"Dude, shut up." Donnovan stated, annoyed. Glade laughed. "Anyway… I picked up a couple of scrolls and a holy book of theirs." Dusk hefted the scrolls in his arms while Donnovan held out the tome. "The scrolls are in some weird language we've never seen. Thanks to Amata, we've got a way to pronounce the words, thanks to Amata. This piece of basic greetings and stuff, but have no idea what the hell they mean. The guide's kind of sparse on that."

"Have you tried cross-referencing the greetings with the words, and the way they sound?" Morrigan suggested.

"Shit… Uh… No…" Donnovan stated, scratching his head. "Good idea… I'll have to do that."

"The book, Don." Dusk reminded him.

"Oh yeah." Donnovan shook his head. His mind was still a bit pre-occupied with the upcoming expulsion from New Jerusalem. "So… The book. Apparently it's called the Shothbarnir. One of the cultists said that."

"Okay… But why does any of this matter?" Lucy asked.

"Because I ran into another one of their books in Point Lookout. The Krivbeknih. Remember the swampfolk rituals I mentioned?" Donnovan went on. The crowd nodded. "Well, yeah, I'm guessing it's similar to what these guys do."

"The collars, now." Glade spoke up, twirling one around his finger. "They have the Vault Tec logo on them. They're the same ones that we ran into back in Rivet City. These crazies called them, what was it Don, 'necklaces of persuasion'?" Glade turned to Donnovan, who nodded. "Anyway, we've found these with pretty much every single group of these cultists."

"Excuse me," Sarah Lyons said, her voice slightly irritable. "But why are you telling us this?"

"We figure that you guys should be on the same level as us as far as knowing what the hell the cult is about." Dusk explained. "Better that all of us are prepared." There was a collective murmur of agreement, and Donnovan and Dusk jumped down off of the table. "Alright." She said, rubbing her hands together then adjusting her goggles. "We should get out of here before Donnovan gets thrown out."

Donnovan shot Dusk an annoyed look as the group exited the bar into the streets outside. Their brahmin and newly repaired robots were waiting. As Morrill took the lead, Donnovan watched the others file by and jumped in near the back of the queue next to Rockfowl. The walk through the streets was excruciating for Donnovan. As he left, he tried hard to affix everything he saw in his memory. They reached the exit of the town far too fast for his liking. A set of wrought iron gates stood in front of them. As Donnovan stared wistfully back at the city, a familiar voice called out to him.

"Donnovan Edan."

Donnovan turned and grinned.

"Shorik, what's up?"

"Just wanted to bid you farewell to the city." Shorik told him. "I'm sorry about your ban, but we have laws for a reason."

"Yeah, but…"

"Don't start, please." Shorik smirked. "I have more experience dealing with self-righteous arguers than you can imagine." He added. Donnovan looked put out and Glade gave a short snicker from somewhere ahead of him, enjoying the scene.

"Alright, I'll leave it at that, then." Donnovan rolled his eyes, smiling nevertheless. "Any other settlements we should be aware of?"

"Not really. It's rather wild farther west of here." Shorik said, glancing through the bars of the gate. "Many dead trees and rock outcrops. Next major settlement is far off. If you stay on the path, you should be safe."

"And if not?"

"Well, there are many areas that people have been too afraid to explore." Shorik shrugged. "I guess I'll leave that choice up to you."

"Damn straight." Donnovan laughed. "Lawless wasteland, out there."

"Not exactly something to celebrate, my friend." Shorik stated darkly. Donnovan felt silent. Yet again, Shorik had dragged him back into reality.

"I… guess…" Donnovan said, not admitting the fault in his words.

"Oi, you to done saying sweet nothings to each other?" Glade's voice called from the front of the group.

"Fuck you, dude. Start moving, I'm ready." Donnovan yelled. He turned, and shook Shorik's hand quickly.

"Get going." Shorik laughed.

"Alright, I'll be back in this town. That's for damn sure." Donnovan told him. A loud screech resounded as the gates opened, and the expedition moved out into the wastes. They walked on, and with every step, New Jerusalem fell further into the distance until it completely disappeared into the dust.

"How far are we going today?" Donnovan sighed as he turned away from taking his last glance at New Jerusalem.

"Most of the day, I believe. Morrill wants to make up the time that we lost." Rockfowl stated.

"At least we managed to restock." Olin, who was walking ahead of Rockfowl, said over her shoulder.

"Yeah, but we're probably almost out of cash, aren't we?" Donnovan wondered.

"Not quite." Glade had stepped to the side of the group to fall into place by Rockfowl.

"What do you mean?" Donnovan cocked an eyebrow.

"This…" Glade reached into the packs of one of the Brahmin and pulled out a heavy-looking, brown leather bag. It jingled, heavily.

"No way…" Donnovan said, his mouth open in awe.

"Yeah, there's a ton in here." Glade grinned, hefting the bag several times.

"Where did you get that?" Rockfowl asked.

"Well," Glade explained. "Before Don was pulled away by that Shorik guy to talk about what he'd done… Dusk and I kind of… Went back and checked the chapel."

"Say what?" Donnovan asked.

"Yeah. I kind of wandered around, talking to the guards, asking all kinds of bullshit questions. They didn't mind, since we were the ones that kind of caused the whole shootout in the first place. Hell, I ended up answering a lot of their questions."

"And… Dusk?" Olin prompted.

"Well, you know her, the sneaky bitch." Glade smiled fondly. "She sulked around in some of the back rooms. Found this bag with a TON of caps in it."

"That's just… bad…" Rockfowl stated, his face screwed up as he tried to find a way to explain his feelings more clearly.

"You stole…" Donnovan said, "… from a church?"

"Oh, please. Look who's calling them 'a church' now, you hypocrite." Glade sneered. Donnovan sheepishly kicked out at a nearby rock as they passed by it. "Exactly, shut the hell up." Glade added.

"I honestly don't know whether to be impressed or disgusted." Rockfowl laughed appreciatively. "I think I'll have to settle for a mix of both."

"They didn't even notice." Glade went on. "Besides, it's not like we stole from the city or the guards, so who the hell cares?"

"Nice to have some funds, though." Olin shrugged. "It'll help after that…" She paused. "Trek through that dusty hell hole. We lost… quite a bit in there."

"We're out now." Donnovan said, finding his voice. "The best way to make sure that Vargas and McGraw are remembered is to get this thing done."

"I guess." Olin stated glumly.

The group traveled along a wide, paved, cracked road for quite some time. The dirt slowly gave way to dead trees and dried bushes as Shorik had mentioned. Eventually, the sun began to set and they had reached a clearing off to the side of the road that once had been a slow vehicle turnout. They set up camp in the shadows of the dead thickets of trees all around them. Rockfowl started a small fire, and Lucy began to cook some of the meat they had picked up back in New Jerusalem. Morrill, as usual, was buried behind his map.

"We've been traveling for about three weeks now, haven't we?" Morrill asked Cross, light from the fire dancing across the unfolded map in front of him.

"Yes." Cross stated, sitting down next to him. "We're slowly leaving behind the settlements."

"In a very short time, we're going to be quite far from any real settlements." Morrill told her. "That means we can get through areas much faster."

"You are very anxious to get back to the Lost Hills bunker, aren't you?" Cross said, looking at him. Morrill paused.

"Well, yes…" He stated. "They know of Lyons' decision to break from his assigned task… I hope they will be somewhat happy to see us."

"They probably will not attack us on sight." Cross suggested. "Though they will most likely wonder about the color of your armor."

"Yes, I hadn't thought of that." Morrill nodded thoughtfully.

"Christ, I'm bored." Dusk yawned. "I'm gonna go see if there's anything to hunt before it gets too dark." She stood up and pulled the bolt of her rifle back, checking it. "Anyone up for going with me?"

"I'll go." Glade stated, standing up. Donnovan raised an eyebrow at him and grinned, while Glade scratched his cheek awkwardly in lieu of a response.

"So Don…" Morgan said, sitting down next to Donnovan, a bottle of water in her hand as Dusk and Glade wandered off. "What the hell did you do?"

"Come on, Morgan." Donnovan sighed. "Don't make me repeat that shit, again. You've heard the story from Dusk."

Morgan suddenly froze, looking behind her in the dark for several seconds before turning back.

"Huh, could've sworn… … Do you think what you did was right?" She stated, getting back on track.

"I don't know… I really don't anymore."

"Shit, I've been there for a while myself. All you have to know is that people overall need to fend for themselves, and we have to take care of our own."

"How's that good for humanity, though?" Donnovan asked. "Kind of meaningless in the long run, isn't it?"

"Humanity?" She scoffed. "Come on. You can't even trust humans with their own weapons. Look at the Great War."

"But you can trust you and your comrades with missile launchers, laser rifles, and all that." Donnovan pointed out.

"I gave up on attempting to be objective a long time ago." Morgan told him. "Being objective is a fucking joke."

"How so?"

"The second we sympathize or even think about one side more, objectivity goes out the window." She explained. Donnovan stared into the fire in silence. Morgan went on. "It's what makes us human. If I hadn't given up on trying to understand humanity completely, I probably would've gone the way of Sylvia Plath, shoved my head near a stove, and asphyxiated myself with the gas. Well, if there was any around, that is…" She paused. "Look, my point is that objectivity is a joke. Trying to take care of yourself and those around you is all that makes any damn sense."

"But then… What does that make us?" Donnovan asked, accepting a piece of meat from Lucy. He bit into it.

"Nothing." Morgan answered. "Absolutely nothing. We're inconsequential."

"Well fuck," Donnovan cursed. "That's just bringing me back to what I was telling Dusk. What's the point of living, then?"

"Logically, there is no point." Dusk shrugged. "But it's not like you should go off and wrap your lips around the barrel of a gun. You've got to have your own opinions on things, and there have to be others that disagree with you there. That's how we keep ourselves in check. I know you're 'the Lone Wanderer' and all that, but don't always try to figure shit out for yourself as far as right and wrong. You'll end up looking at suicide as a way out."

"Huh." Donnovan grunted. He couldn't think of anything interesting to say. He simply stared off into the fire, his mind buzzing with the conversation he'd just had. Suddenly, there was a heavy grunt followed by a loud thud as a body hit the ground in front of the campfire, sending several tiny grains of gravel scattering away. There was a shout, and everyone leapt up in surprise, weapons drawn. Glade and Dusk appeared out of the darkness, Glade brushing his hands off against each other, as though he had just finished cleaning something. A bloodied, bruised man in brown leather clothes was lying in front of them, his face screwed up in pain. He had a scraggly beard and short black hair that was speckled with bits of dirt and gravel.

"Caught the bastard spying on our camp on the way back." Glade announced. Everyone stared at the figure curled up in pain in front of the fire.


	16. A Familiar Interruption

**Part 16 – A Familiar Interruption**

The crackle of the fire burning was the only sound that could be heard for several seconds as the expedition watched the scruffy man curl up in pain. Morrill, Cross, Morgan, Donnovan, Dusk, and Glade all stared at the spy. Lucy and Amata, the latter caught in the middle of changing, stepped out of the tents to find the cause of the commotion. The flames of the fire licked the night air, illuminating the surroundings and causing light to dance around of the man's clothes. Everyone looked at each other, completely unsure of what to do until Morrill stepped forward.

"State your name."

The man froze, still splayed out in the dirt. He turned his head, craning his neck back to glance at Morrill.

"Are yoo th' lee-der?" He asked in a heavy southern accent, his voice slightly strained from the pain. Morrill looked up at the others. Yearling and Lucy nodded.

"I am, yes."

"Well then yoo need ta pay tha fee." The man grinned, shifting so that he sat up on the ground.

"Fee? What fee?"

"Th' fee for passin' through these here lands." The man said.

"Who are you, and who is the fee for?" Cross asked as she walked up behind Morrill.

"Y'all aint from 'round here, are ya?" The man looked around, a malicious smile on his lips.

"What does that matter?" Morrill asked him, his eyes narrowing.

"Like I said b'fore, anyone passin' through these here parts needs ta pay a fee." The man explained.

"And I am asking again, who does this fee go to?" Cross said, her eyes fixed on the man.

"Yer in bandit country now." The man's mouth split in a wide grin to reveal yellowing, crooked teeth. "Plenty of us in deez parts."

"What the hell does that mean?" Glade spat. He walked up, grabbed a handful of the man's shirt and lifted him into the air.

"Y'all need to pay. With money..." The man's eyes strayed onto Amata, who was wearing only underwear and a night shirt. His huge smile widened even further. "Or with some other thangs." Without warning, Glade threw the man headfirst to the pavement. His head made a sickening thud as it impacted the cement, his body following, crumpling awkwardly down. The man gave a loud, painful whimper as Glade picked him up by the front of his shirt again. Blood rushed down the man's almost flattened nose, as well as from a large cut across his forehead.

"You look at any of us like that again, I'm gonna make you loose your anal virginity to one of those burning logs." Glade growled. The man's eyes shifted over to the fire before back to Glade. His face was filled with unmistakable terror at the powerful man holding him up. He nodded. Donnovan couldn't help but admire the scene.

"Alright, good." Glade stated, "Now-"

"HEALP!" The man shouted out, his voice at a strange pitch due to his broken nose. "Take dem out, now!"

From the dark forest around them, a shrill whistle could be heard. Glade, forgetting he was holding the man up, turned his upper body in the direction of the noise in time for a resounding twang to be heard, followed by a black-tipped, white-feathered arrow pelting out of the trees at him. The arrow tore into the scruffy man's lower back, its tip boring through his body and jutting out inches from Glade's face. In panic, Glade tossed the man aside as he and the expedition dropped to the ground, more arrows flying through the air above them. Rockfowl yelled loudly, one of the arrows lodged in his left bicep. With a pained expression on his face, he gripped it, and slowly pulled it out, blood pouring down the wound. As Rockfowl dug into his first-aid-kit, Donnovan realized that the animals of the expedition were not being targeted at all. The members of the expedition all unholstered their weapons, but couldn't see through the darkness. An arrow bounced off of the pavement, inches from Morgan's face, who was lying about two feet away from Donnovan.

"Wait, this is fucking stupid." Morgan cursed. She turned her head. "Ronnie! Get over here, now!"

"Yes, ma'am!" The voice of the Mister Gutsy that had survived the trip through Hellfire Crater called back from somewhere near the brahmin. Withing a few seconds, he was hovering above the expedition, arrows bouncing pointlessly off of his armor.

"Light 'em up!" Morgan yelled. "Get the trees around us!"

"KILL 'EM ALL, AND LET GOD SORT 'EM OUT!" Ronnie yelled as a massive jet of flame erupted from the robot. He spun in a circle, the flame catching on trees and bushes, and within several seconds, the entire area around the was aflame and illuminated. Many disheveled looking men hiding set up by the trees glanced around in horror as their positions were revealed. They wore the same clothes as the man that Glade had caught spying. Some were lacking shirts, others shoes, but every single one was holding what appeared to be home-made bows. Quivers on their backs were stacked with sinister looking arrows.

"Are you ready to die for your country, you commie son of a bitch?" Ronnie bellowed, a burst of plasma firing from his gun. The green discharge obliterated one of the bandits' faces, turning it into a green gel.

Donnovan and the others took this as the cue to fight, and the many calibers and energy signatures of the weapons of the expedition filled the night air. Gunfire ripped through trees and humans alike, as the bandits were cut down by overwhelmingly superior weapons. Donnovan himself managed to notch a kill by delivering two rounds from his .44 into a particularly tall bandit, ripping his chest open. Morgan's assault rifle cut down two of the attackers, while Dusk was outdoing everyone else. Even though she was firing at rather close targets with a scoped weapon, every time her rifle roared, Donnovan saw blood erupt from a bandit's chest or stomach as the .308 rounds did their job. A fragmentation grenade thrown by Morrill exploded, and three bandits dropped to the ground, shrapnel ripping through their flesh, blood spraying from the neck of one as a fragment tore through his jugular vein. As a burst from Olin's laser pistol tore through the solar plexus of what seemed to be the last bandit, things quieted down.

Smoke poured from the barrel of Dusk's rifle, Glade was breathing rather hard, and the only sounds that could be heard were the dying chokes of bandit that Olin had shot, and a groan or two from some of the bandits lucky enough to survive the fight.

"Please, they think they can get the drop on us?" Dusk scoffed. "Like we haven't dealt with raiders before."

"They kind of did…" Donnovan muttered.

"Indeed. Speak for yourself, Dusk." Rockfowl stated, tightening the bandage on his arm.

"Huh, I actually was kind of accurate." Olin said, glancing at her laser pistol. "Hit what I was aiming for. Guess that time shooting bottles paid off."

Glade meanwhile strode over to the woods. He rolled the man Olin had shot over with his foot. The bandit's face was white, his eyes rolled back in their sockets. He was unmistakably dead. Following the other moans of pain, Glade came across the only two survivors of the firefight. One of the bandits had received a nasty stomach wound from Morrill's plasma rifle, while the other's left leg and shoulder had been torn open by Lucy's submachine gun. With a grunt, he grabbed both bandits by the scruff of their collars and dragged them back to the group. He dropped them unceremoniously onto the first bandit that had appeared, who was barely clinging to life, an arrow through his stomach.

"You." Glade stated, pointing at one of the surviving men he had dragged from the forest, a skinny, pale man with a black beard. Glade lifted him up into the air. "Talk. Your buddy here that you guys shot said we're in 'bandit country'. What the hell does that mean?"

"We get paid in thangs to leave travelers 'lone," The man grunted. His left wrist had been shattered by a 5.56 round, and his free hand gripped Glade's arm.

"Made a mistake in attacking us before talking to us, didn't you?" Donnovan snarled.

"Us attack yoo?" The man said. "Jeb there was just watchin' y'all, you nabbed him."

"Uh…" Glade muttered. The bandit had a point. "Either way, you shouldn't have… uh… been spying on us."

"How many others are there?" Morrill asked.

"You keeled damn near all of us," The man drawled, wincing in pain. "There's other gangs. We ain't so lucky as dem."

"You mean they're better armed than 'y'all'," Dusk mocked the man.

"Wha?" The man coughed, staring at Dusk in disbelief. "Did jew jus' make funna me? What makes yoo think you got tha right?"

"Because I can shoot better than your inbred, hick-ass can." Dusk sneered.

"I sware, if y'all don-" The bandit was cut off as Dusk's rifle roared, and a ringing sound filled Donnovan's ears. The bandit's head disappeared. Blood and bits of bone and brain matter flew everywhere, spraying the front of Glade's clothes. Glade turned and began yelling at Dusk, though all Donnovan could hear were muffled voices, which for some reason, made the scene somewhat hilarious. As his hearing returned to normal, Morrill, failing at keeping his grin hidden, walked up to the two other bandits laying by the fire. Jeb, the first one who had appeared, had lost a significant amount of blood and gone catatonic. The other one, a survivor of Morrill's fragmentation grenade, looked up at them.

"There ain't nothing else we can tell y'all." The man coughed.

"Are you sure?" Morrill knelt down next to him. The bandit nodded. "Alright then." The bandit looked relieved. With the conversation finished, Morrill stood up and pulled a black 9 millimeter pistol out of a holster in the back of his pants. He raised the gun, and two loud cracks echoed through the night, extinguishing the remaining bandits' lives as the bullets dug into their skulls. He looked up in the direction of Donnovan and Morgan.

"We should pro-" He froze, staring past them. "Should we do something about that?"

The expedition turned to looked at the forest. The trees several feet from the clearing were still alight, while curiously, any trees farther out were not burning. Sporadically, a slight ember glow would appear on a branch of one, but it died quickly, and never flared up.

"That's… weird…" Donnovan stated.

"Those trees out there have been dead since the Great War, probably." Olin suggested. "The ones by the highway probably grew out a bit from what little nutrition they got from the passing travelers and bandits. It probably would help bandits, anyway… Havin thicker trees to hide behind, and all."

"That's the definition of irony." Morgan laughed, as the expedition watched a burning branch drop to the ground and break into pieces.

"You think we should try to stop it?" Donnovan wondered, glancing at the others.

"Nah, it'll burn itself out." Olin said. "But unless we want to be breathing ash all night and next morning, I suggest we move the camp down the road a mile or so.

"I agree." Cross nodded.

"Shit… We just got set up, though." Glade cursed.

"Urgh, whatever." Donnovan grumbled, wandering over to his tent and beginning to unhook it. There was a general murmur of conversation as the expedition bustled around the camp, packing their gear up. Glade had taken to looting the bodies of the bandits, walking from corpse to corpse. Morgan, meanwhile, had walked over to the Mr. Gutsy, apparently named Ronnie.

"Great job, Ronnie." Morgan nodded, patting Ronnie's eyeplate.

"Thank you, ma'am!" Ronnie answered with the gruff voice of a respectful military recruit. "Ma'am, this soldier requests to resume his post defending the convoy."

"Go for it, Ronnie. Thanks again." Morgan grinned.

"Yes, ma'am!" Ronnie stated before floating back towards the animals and other robots. Donnovan gave an appreciative chuckle at this conversation before going back to work on his tent.

"Well, other than a handful of caps, I haven't found shit." Glade straightened up, his form clearly standing out from the fire now dying down behind him.

"At least it gave us some practice." Rockfowl stated. "We haven't had to deal with a raider ambush for well over a month. This should keep us from getting too rusty and keep our instincts sharp."

"Yeah, still though." Glade cursed, kicking over the body of a headless bandit before walking back to the others. "Ammo isn't something to waste. It's not light, either. Remember, we have to buy it out here. We don't exactly have an armory with us."

"That's why I stick to laser weapons." Olin fondly patted the laser pistol in her hip holster. "Ammo's light."

"I could never get the hang of those." Glade stated. "I just can't seem to grip it, it's too small."

Donnovan simply stared.

"Yeah, I'll bet…" Dusk snickered.

"What…?" Glade looked around. It was several seconds before the impact of what he had said hit him. "Oh shit…" He covered his face with his palm and gave a snort of laughter.

Rockfowl smiled slightly, Lucy snickered, Morrill rolled his eyes, and Cross just looked blankly at Glade, who had now started laughing openly.

"Alright, alright." Morrill stated, looking slightly bored. "Let's pack up already and go, already."

"I second that." Sarah coughed. "I think I just inhaled more smoke than Three Dog on a Friday night."


	17. Ill Fated Meeting

**Part 17 - Ill-Fated Meeting  
**

The expedition traveled for weeks with only one notable incident. They had met with several other bandit groups, but with their prior knowledge, simply paid them off, as it was much more convenient, and cheap, to pay a toll than expend ammunition fighting them. They had trouble with only one lone bandit who had pounced onto Ronnie, attempting to take control of him. The attempt failed hilariously, as the man gripped the Mister Gutsy with all four limbs, holding onto it like a giant exercise ball. Though the weight of the man buckled Ronnie, he floated forward, attempting to buck the bandit off. The result was like some kind of convoluted robot rodeo, with Reggie bouncing in the air, and the man holding on for dear life. Ronnie managed to shake the man and rip his chest open with several plasma bursts after about five minutes of the struggle, during which the entire expedition was laughing too hard to do anything about the fight.

As they trekked on, the trees gave way to rolling landscapes and large rocks outcroppings. At some point during the walk, Donnovan, Morgan, and Morrill had gotten into a debate about whether or not Machiavelli was being sincere when he wrote 'The Prince. Dusk was hanging slightly behind the group, listening interestedly to the discussion but not adding her own opinion. The discussion was still going strong as the sun hung high in the sky and they walked through a low plain dotted with many rock outcroppings and thick fields of dry, yellowed, waist-high grass.

"Oh come on, every thing else he wrote championed the exact opposite of 'The Prince'." Morgan was stating.

"Either way, it was a freakin' step-by-step guide." Donnovan said.

"He could have possibly viewed things differently at the time." Morrill offered.

"Dude, come on. The way he writes it is a bit ridiculous." Donnovan said.

"Only from your point of view." Morgan pointed out. "Remember? Everyone's right in their own mind. There's probably idiocy about our own beliefs that we don't see."

"Oh yeah." Donnovan said thoughtfully. "Still, I don't really think he could believe both. Switching sides to that extent's kind of far-fetched, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but people have wake up calls, so who knows?" Morgan said.

"Christ, can you guys talk about something that's not completely boring?" Lucy, who was walking just ahead of them, briefly turned and walked backwards for several paces, as the group was coming around the side of a medium-sized boulder.

"Sorry if our discussions lack ponies and make-up." Donnovan joked.

"Whatever." Lucy smiled, turning back around.

"Hey, you alright?" Morgan suddenly said. Her head was turned sideways, looking at Dusk, who had stopped in place, and was looking at her surroundings, her eyes alert.

"Something's… Not right." She stated. Her eyes darted forward just as Lucy was several paces out from the rock in the open clearing surrounding it. "Shit… LUCY, WAIT!"

A loud, distant crack echoed across the hills and fields, and Lucy's right side erupted in a red mist. She fell sideways, spinning slightly and landing hard on her back.

"FUCK!" Morgan yelled.

"EVERYONE, GET TO COVER, NOW!" Morrill yelled at the group behind him as he, Donnovan, Morgan, and Dusk immediately put their shoulders to the boulder. A painful, pitiful gasp escaped Lucy's lips. Another crack resounded from somewhere in the distance, and the bill of Amata's hat was torn through. The head of one of the expedition's Protectrons, which had been walking next to Amata, exploded in a magnificent shower of blue and white sparks. It fell to the dirt with a resounding clunk, and in a panic, Amata dropped down as well, disappearing into the grass.

"Oh my god!" She screamed as the rest of the expedition also vanished as they went prone in the visual cover of the grass, forcing their pack Brahmin down on their sides as well. Olin literally threw herself at last, remaining Protectron, tackling it to the ground. It would've have been a funny scene had it not been for the gravity of the situation. A third loud crack could be heard, and a bullet dug into the corner of the rock that Morrill, Dusk, Donnovan, and Morgan were hiding behind. Dusk had briefly peered out to see if she could find the location of their shooter.

"Did you find him?" Morrill asked, his voice slightly panicky.

"I think I saw the glint of his scope, but I'm be sure." Dusk mumbled, readying her rifle.

"Lucy!" Donnovan called out, his voice breaking slightly as he looked at her lying in the clearing, the ground around her being slowly stained with the deep hue of her blood. "Don't fucking die, dammit!" Lucy simply coughed as an answer, blooding pouring out of her mouth. Donnovan dropped his weapons and stepped forward, attempting to sprint to Lucy, but Morgan's arm stretched out and grabbed him before he had exposed more than a foot of his body. She pulled him back as there was a fourth loud crack, and Donnovan felt the unmistakable wake of a bullet flying past the spot he had been in a second before.

"You'll just get nailed, too." Morgan said, as Donnovan struggled. "Calm the fuck down! He's using her as bait since the first shot didn't kill her."

"She's dying, god dammit!" Donnovan wailed. "We've got to get to her!"

"WE CAN'T!" Morgan yelled. She slammed Donnovan against the rock, hard, trying to knock some sense into him.

"No, god dammit…" Donnovan muttered, his left hand gripping the rock, attempting to help Morgan stop his body from launching itself at Lucy and trying to drag her back. "No… No… No…" Lucy still lay on the ground, the color draining from her face as she gasped painfully. "Is that asshole still out there?" Donnovan yelled at no one in particular.

"Yeah… I just need to get his exact position." Dusk muttered. I need a helmet, or… something…" Her face lit up. "Rockfowl!"

"Yeah!" The answer came from somewhere in the thick grass nearby.

"You near the pack Brahmin?" Dusk called.

"Yes, I've got two right here!"

"Awesome!" Dusk stated. "Crawl to my voice, bring one of the power armor helmets!"

"Uh… Why?"

"Just do it! We're gonna draw his fire with it, then I'll know exactly where our shooter is!" Dusk told him, attempting to stay calm while Donnovan, who was several feet away, was still grappling with the urge to go attempt to save Lucy.

"Understood." Rockfowl answered. It was silent for several moments, save for another crack of the unseen shooter's rifle, followed by a bullet digging into the ground near Lucy, who was slowly losing consciousness. Rockfowl appeared, crawling on his hands and knees, the rock covering the open area in front of the grass. In his hand, he held what appeared to be Glade's power helmet. "Here."

Dusk grabbed the helmet, then turned to Donnovan.

"Give me your rifle." She said. "Now." Donnovan was too focused on Lucy to answer, so Morgan swung him around and ripped the rifle off of his back.

"Put the helmet on it, and lean it out low." Dusk commanded. "I'll lean out high, and when he hits it, I'll fire at where he shot from."

"Got it." Morgan nodded. She pressed herself low against the rock, while Dusk was right behind her, standing up.

"Okay…" Dusk took a deep breath. "Lean it out… now."

Morgan winced and slowly let the helmet drift out from behind the rock. Several extremely tense seconds passed, and there was no shot. Morgan glanced at Dusk, who looked puzzled. "Wiggle it." Dusk told her.

Morgan did as commanded, but still, there was nothing from their unseen shooter.

"What… What the hell?" Dusk blurted out. Morgan drew the helmet back in.

"Why aren't they shooting?" Rockfowl asked. Donnovan's internal struggle finally won out, and he sprinted out to Lucy, dropping to his knees next to her form. Morgan yelled for him to stop, but there was no shot fired. Lucy, meanwhile, had stopped breathing, and a huge pool of blood had spread from her body and began to dry. He lightly propped her up on his knees, cradling her in his arms.

"No…" Donnovan repeated again, feeling his eyes begin to burn. "No…"

Olin appeared from the grass and cautiously made her way over to them, kneeling over Lucy. She put her hand to Lucy's neck, feeling for a pulse. Donnovan watched Olin's face intently, waiting for any sign. After several seconds, Olin looked up at him, her expression sullen, and silently shook her head. Donnovan felt his stomach drop away.

"She's dead, Don." Olin finally managed to say, her eyes welling up with tears. "She's… she's gone."

Donnovan silently cradled Lucy's body, tears running down the side of his face. One of his first real friends he had met outside of Vault 101, and someone he had been growing fond of, was dead. Donnovan gripped her body tightly, his face buried in her shoulder. He didn't even notice the others gathering around them, silently watching him.

"Freeze." A new voice stated. It had the familiar, slightly muffled tone that undoubtedly meant it was being said by someone wearing power armor. Donnovan was still focused on Lucy. The others, however, were staring at three figures in power armor who had approached them. They looked like Brotherhood, and yet had strange extensions that resembled antlers on their helms. "Who are you?" One of them asked. He was holding a large, black sniper rifle in his hands.

"Wait… You're Brotherhood?" Glade asked.

"Indeed. We are the Brotherhood of Steel based in this area. Who are you, and why are you in possession of Brotherhood of Steel Power Armor? Explain. The better your explanation, the less painful it will be when we confiscate it."

"I…" Sarah spoke up, "Am Sentinel Lyons, of the East Coast Expedition of the Brotherhood of Steel, under the orders of Elder Lyons." She briefly put her hand beneath her shirt and brought up her Brotherhood holotags, showing them to the new arrivals.

"I-what?" came the extremely surprised, muffled answer from the leader of the three figures. His formal tone disappeared. "How do you…?"

"Wait…" A look of comprehension suddenly appeared on Sarah's face. "You… Are you part of the expedition under Barnaky?" Two of the figures silently exchanged glances, while their apparent leader was speechless.

"Y-yes." The leader answered. "How did you know?"

"You fucking incompetent bastards!" Sarah suddenly exploded. "You fired on an expedition of Brotherhood coming from the East!"

"But, I-" The leader stuttered.

"But nothing!" Sarah yelled. Without her power armor, Sarah looked like any other attractive blonde. However, she had risen to her position of Sentinel through combat, skill, and cunning, and was not easily intimidated. She marched right up to the hulking, power-armored figures. They were well over a foot taller than her, and yet they almost cowered as Sarah's rage broke over them, a fire in her eyes. "You idiots opened fire on an expedition of the Brotherhood! More so, one with a Sentinel and Star Paladin!" The figures were speechless. "Who is your commander, I demand to see him, NOW!" Sarah's face was as close to the leader's helmet as she could reach.

"He's… I…" The leader glanced over at Lucy's body, still being cradled by Donnovan. Olin had her arms around Donnovan's shoulders. "I'm so sorry about that. I-Wait. We're not even a part of you now. We-"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Sarah yelled. Her domineering personality had won out. The trio stood rooted to the spot. "I ask again, what is the name of your leader?"

"G-General Dekker." The leader blurted out. The other two turned their helmeted heads to look at him. The leader pulled his power helmet off of his head, revealing a pale white face, brown eyes, and short black hair. His expression looked to be a mix of confusion and slight fear. "Look, I'm sorry. We thought you were some new tribals. We'd never fire on those who we once called our brothers."

"Well you did." Sarah said darkly. The rest of the expedition had risen, watching the argument. "What is your name?"

"I'm Knight Daniels." The leader managed to say.

"Go back a second, 'new tribals'?" Morgan looked confused. "What the hell does that mean?"

"We control this area." Knight Daniels stated. "We make sure those that live here accept our rule."

"Wait… You force the people to live under your rule?" Morgan glared at Daniels.

"Well, yes." Daniels stated, awkwardly glancing at the other members of the expedition. "They have to know their place."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Morgan stated, her mouth open. She cocked an eyebrow at Morrill.

"We were just discussing this, were we not?" Morrill said, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Jesus, and I thought we were the opposite of you people-loving Brotherhood." Morgan scoffed, glancing at Glade and Dusk.

"Should… we take you to our leader now?" Daniels asked uneasily, well aware of the slightly idiotic statement.

"We have to bury our dead comrade, first." Sarah snarled. "And you're going to wait here and watch."

"Hey, you can't make us-" one of the other power armored figures spoke up.

"Excuse me?" Sarah interrupted him. "In case you haven't noticed, we not only outnumber you, but we are just as well armed, if not better armed, than you. Too add to that, now that you idiots know that we are Brotherhood, you should realize that we know the weak spots in power armor."

The man fell silent.

Sarah turned and walked over to Donnovan and Olin. She bent down and whispered into Donnovan's ear, softly.

"Don? Hey… We should bury her… Give her a peaceful rest." Sarah mentioned, lightly squeezing Donnovan's shoulder. Donnovan looked up at her. His tears had dried out. His expression seemed emotionless, but Sarah and Olin knew that this was only a mask to hide his pain. He nodded at Sarah.

"Thanks…" He mumbled. "Both of you."

Very carefully, they put Lucy's body to the ground, as Glade walked over to one of the expedition's extremely confused pack Brahmin and procured a shovel.


	18. Not Unforseen

**Part 18 - Not Unforseen**

"… With the setting of the sun. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Morrill finished his speech. The expedition had gathered around a dirt mound with a cross placed at its head. This would be Lucy's final resting place. The three Midwestern Brotherhood soldiers stood off to the side, looking completely out of place. Slowly, the members of the expedition stepped away, one-by-one, from the burial site. The last one that stood there was Donnovan, looking at the cross. His tears had long since dried, and he wore a blank expression, trying his best to keep his emotions buried as best he could. After some time, he stepped away and rejoined the group.

"Finally, are we done?" one of the armored figures asked. "Can we go?"

"Show some fucking respect." Morgan cursed, glaring at him.

"Yes, lead the way." Sarah commanded, looking directly at Knight Daniels. He was about to take a step, when he noticed Donnovan. An extremely empty looking expression was on his face as his eyes were locked onto those of Knight Daniels. Donnovan's head was cocked sideways slightly, jaw clenched. Turning away from the slightly eerie gaze, Daniels motioned for the others to follow him.

"Let's… Uh… go…" He mumbled as Donnovan's gaze burned into the back of his head. Morgan fell into place beside Donnovan.

"I've seen that look." She told him. "It's nothing new."

"Huh?" Donnovan shook his head, and almost immediately, his face changed from the expressionless gaze to a saddened, tired, look. "What?"

"The way you were just looking at Daniels." Morgan told him, her voice rather low. "I've seen that before on several faces."

"What?" Donnovan furled his eyebrow in confusion. "What, me… Uh… crying?"

"No, no. What were you feeling just now?" Morgan asked. "Just about twenty seconds ago."

Donnovan thought carefully.

"I dunno." He shrugged. "It's kind of blank. I didn't really want to think about Lucy being dead." His voice cracked slightly.

"Nothing, huh?" Morgan said, her eyes gazing into Donnovan's. "It will come forward. You'll see."

"What… what the hell are you talking about?" Donnovan shook his head.

"You'll see." Morgan repeated. "Don't worry, I'll be by your side when you go through with it."

"You're not really making any sense." Donnovan said, slightly confused.

"Just you wait." Morgan smirked. The rest of the trek was spent in silence as the expedition followed the three armored figures through the grassy plain. The grass became shorter as the travelers neared the edge of another large forest full of dead trees. The Midwestern Brotherhood soldiers led the expedition down a narrow winding path. The trees here were long dead, and yet, ash still fell from them, floating slowly to the ground like snowflakes.

"Knight Daniels." Cross spoke up from somewhere up ahead of them as the expedition donned their facemasks over their noses and mouths.

"Yes?" He answered, the boots of the expedition crunching on dried leaves and branches as they walked.

"This ashfall…" Cross began.

"It's from one of our previous recovery operations several days ago." He answered, his voice betraying his dutiful exterior as a slight tone of guilt made itself heard. "There was a group of villagers that tried leaving our jurisdiction."

"I'll bet that ended well." Morgan muttered sarcastically.

"They took their belongings and everything they had cultivated with them, claiming it as theirs, and that we had no right to force them to pay us taxes." Daniels went on. "They hid out in this forest. It was very difficult to catch them."

"So you set fire to the woods?" Sarah asked, glancing sideways at him.

"We didn't mean to." Daniels said awkwardly. "It was supposed to be a controlled blaze."

"But you fucked up and burned the whole forest down?" Morgan offered. Daniels was silent. "Fucking figures." Morgan added.

"Morgan… Please." Morrill raised his hand, and Morgan fell into a grumpy silence.

"But yes, this is the result of that purge."

"Purge?" Sarah asked, raising her eyebrow.

"It was for a good cause."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions!" Morgan called out. Morrill turned his head and gave her a disapproving look, and she quieted down again.

The travelers finally made it to the edge of the forest. There, the Midwestern Brotherhood soldiers stopped them briefly, and pointed to something that lay just ahead of the tree line: a large, looming, metal structure. It looked to be a military bunker of the pre-war variety.

"This is one of our outposts." Daniels stated as the group walked up to the bunker. "We can contact General Dekker from here…" He trailed off.

"And he'll meet us?" Sarah asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Yes… Of course… He'll want to when he hears that you are Brotherhood and not just some traders."

"How will he react when he finds out you killed one of our number?" Sarah tilted her head.

"Um…" Daniels looked slightly nervous. "I'm.. not sure." He turned briefly, then accessed a nearby wall computer. Several seconds passed where the only sound could be heard was the clicking of the computer's keyboard. Suddenly, a loud sound echoed through the forest, sending chills down the spines of the expedition. The metal doors slid apart horizontally, loudly screeching, opening into a large, metal entry hall. Daniels beckoned them inside. He briefly froze as he looked at Donnovan again, on whose face the eerie, blank expression had appeared again. Daniels stepped aside to let the expedition file in, not breaking eye contact. However, as Donnovan passed by him, the young man's expression changed back to the solemn, exhausted one he had been wearing for most of the trek. Daniels shook his head in confusion as his two companions entered the bunker, trailing after the last Brahmin of the expedition. The door closed behind them.

"What?" Donnovan said, looking at Mogan, who had been watching him closely.

"I'll stand with you." She said simply, before turning away.

"You may wait here. It's rather small, and I apologize for that." Daniels said. "Our radio room's just down the hall. I'll be right back." With that, he disappeared down a side hallway, while his two soldiers remained with the expedition, watching them.

"What's the plan?" Glade asked, turning to Morrill, speaking low so only he and Sarah could hear him.

"We don't have many options, do we?" Morrill mused, his voice also quiet as he glanced at Sarah.

"Might as well meet with this General Dekker and see what happens." Sarah whispered to them.

"Any chance they might try to kill us and take our shit?" Glade wondered.

"There's always that chance with anyone we meet, Glade. Come on."

"We should keep on our guard. Then again, perhaps they have been attempting to get in touch with the Lost Hills bunker as well."

"Come on, Morrill… These jackasses told the elders they are separate from them, remember?"

"Yes, but you forget, Lyons, that technically, the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood is as well."

"Hm… Good point."

"Regardless of that, I'm not sure what our course of action should be. Perhaps we should just leave?"

"They might follow us. Hell, that might even give them reason to kill and raid us."

"We're not leaving. I'm not letting these guys off the hook that easily," Sarah said. "Not after what they did. Look how badly it affected Don-" She glanced over to find Donnovan, but saw the space he had been occupying earlier empty. She looked around, confused.

"Where the hell did he go?" Glade scratched his head.

….

Completely silent, and gripping his combat knife in his right hand, Donnovan almost mechanically marched down the hallway that Daniels had disappeared down minutes before. His expression was blank, his mind was set on one thing. It was almost like something else had taken over inside of him as he walked the hallway, listening intently. Finally, his ears picked up the voice of the man he was looking for.

"Yes sir… I… I apologize."

"This does not bode well, Daniels." A voice answered through a heavy static. Donnovan reached forward, his arm slowly opening a nearby door into a small room. He found Daniels, his back to the doorway, hunched over a desk on which a radio was set up.

"I know sir, again, I apologize. I was only assuming they were the usual traders approaching, and I wanted to treat them like any other newcomers to our lands." Daniels rattled off. Each step seemed to tense Donnovan up as he slowly and methodically walked up behind Daniels, not making a sound.

"We shall see what will transpire, Daniels." The voice on the radio came through. "I am on my way. Expect me soon."

"Yes, sir." Daniels answered. He switched the radio off and sighed. He leaned his head back, running a hand through his hair. He grabbed his helmet off of the nearby desk and turned. This was the moment Donnovan had been waiting for. "You? What-?"

Donnovan's blank expression morphed into one of pure, unbridled anger and hate. With incredible speed, his hand flew up and slashed across Daniel's face, tearing across both of his eyes. Blood sprayed from the now useless eye sockets and Daniels screamed horribly, his hands gripping his face as he stumbled backwards into the desk. The radio clattered off of it, breaking as it hit the ground. Reaching up, Donnovan gripped Daniels' exposed throat, squeezing his fingers around the man's windpipe, cutting off his scream.

"Sic semper tyrannis." He said in barely more than a whisper. He thrust the knife through Daniels' cheek and let go of his throat, allowing him to scream again. The man tumbled to the floor onto his back, bleeding badly. Donnovan bent down, putting his knee on Daniels' chest, and raised the knife. With as much force as he could, he plunged it through his victim's nose cavity. He heard the bones break with a sickening crack as Daniels' scream turned into a bloody death rattle. He ripped the knife out of Daniels' head and jabbed at the man's head again, and again, and again. Blood flew everywhere, speckling the walls and desk, and yet Donnovan was unabated until he heard heavy footfalls in the hallway outside.

In the doorway, Daniels' companions had appeared, with Morgan standing just behind them. All three wore a shocked expression as the stared at the scene. Donnovan's blood-flecked face turned to them and the young man swayed slightly, as if in a haze. Morgan and the soldiers looked up, dumbstruck.

Morgan recovered quickest. With lighting speed, she unholstered her side arm, a .357 revolver. She pressed the barrel to a weak spot in the side armor of the Midwestern Brotherhood soldier to her left and fired. The loud shot echoed through the entire bunker and there was a brief, passing smell of cordite as the man yelled in pain, the bullet tearing through his flesh and ripping into his kidney. He fell to the ground, gripping his side in agony.

The other soldier turned, but Morgan put the barrel of her pistol to the right eyepiece of the soldier and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed again as the round dug through the target's eye and into his brain. He was dead before his armored body loudly clattered to the floor. The survivor was rolling on the ground in pain, grunting heavily. As he saw Morgan turn toward him, his hand went to his rifle, but Morgan shoved her boot heel under the man's chin, lifting his head up and exposing his throat. Once more, Morgan's revolver roared, resulting in her target's throat collapsing in on itself. A short chocking sound could be heard before the soldier stopped breathing.

"Told you." Morgan said simply, walking up to Donnovan. He glanced at her.

"I shouldn't have done that…" He said, his expression changing to one of complete bewilderment as he glanced at Daniels' corpse. "I… I shouldn't have done that."

"Bullshit. He deserved what he got." Morgan spat. She put Donnovan's arm around her shoulder and lifted him up. "I know that feeling. Your legs still useless, or are you alright to walk."

"I… I don't know." Donnovan's head rolled back and he gazed at the ceiling, his mind foggy.

"That answers that. Come on, let's go." She grunted, helping Donnovan out of the room, leaving the three armored bodies behind. As they made their way down the corridor, the rest of the expedition appeared ahead of them from the entry hall.

"What the fuck was that?" Glade yelled.

"Poetic justice." Morgan answered. "Pack your shit and get your armor on, we have to get going, NOW."

"What?" Dusk's voice called. "Why?"

"Just do it. The shit's about to hit the fan. We have to go while we still have some time."

"What the hell happened?" Glade asked.

"I'll explain on the way. It was bound to happen eventually." Morgan said as she and Donnovan elbowed their way through the others to reach their packs. "Now let's go before they get the chance to snipe any more of us."


	19. Powder Keg

**Part 19 – Powder Keg**

Adrenaline surged through his body, his heart pounded loudly, his lungs burned, and his eardrums felt like they were trying to escape his head. Donnovan ran deeper and deeper into the forest. He had plunged off into the woods after killing Knight Daniels, the expedition following him. His breathing turned heavy, the strange sound of oxygen being pulled through the filter of his power helmet resounding in his ears. After several minutes of sprinting, he doubled over, his hands on his knees, dropping the bag of gear he had been carrying and taking off his power helmet. He straightened up and craned his neck backwards, his face to the falling ash as the heavy footsteps slowing and stopping behind him signaled the arrival of several other members of the expedition.

"Where... are... the pack... brahmin...?" Sarah asked between breaths.

"Heh." Morgan gave a slightly gravelly exhalation. "Everything's behind us." She coughed.

One by one, the expedition caught up to the runners at the front.

"Someone tell me why the fuck we ran back into the ash forest?" Glade rasped, walking over to Morgan and Donnovan, who were standing next to each other.

"Though Donnovan did run off without warning, it is the best option if we will soon be searched for." Morrill suggested.

"But why will we be searched for?" Glade stated, looking at Donnovan. "What the hell did you do?"

Donnovan glanced at Morgan, who nodded.

"I killed Daniels."

"You what?" Glade ripped off his power helmet.

"I killed Knight Daniels." Donnovan repeated, showing Glade the knife he had used. A small amount of blood had dried on the blade.

"I had to take out his goons." Morgan spoke up.

"Are you two out of your fucking minds?" Glade yelled. "You killed Brotherhood!"

"They're not Brotherhood anymore, Glade." Morgan interjected. "Remember? They broke away long before any of us."

"So you kill them? Why?" Glade looked at Donnovan.

"Bastard shot Lucy…" Donnovan answered quietly.

"What are we, animals now?" Glade asked, looking from Morgan to Donnovan.

"Is what you say, true?" Morrill stepped forward.

"Yeah." Morgan said. "We did it."

"And you didn't stop him?" Glade shouted at Morgan.

"Hey, back the fuck off! It was my choice!" Donnovan roared, stepping in between Glade and Morgan. Glade was taller, and much stronger than Donnovan, but Donnovan's rage, coupled with the adrenaline in his body, had overtaken common sense.

"How the fuck could you do something like that?" Glade yelled at Donnovan

"I had my reasons!" Donnovan shouted back. Everyone else in the expedition had stopped what they were doing and were watching the altercation get worse, their mouths open.

"What reasons justify murder? That's one hell of an irrational decision." Glade grunted.

"I'm only human." Donnovan growled.

"You're a fucking psycho!" Glade stated loudly, tapping the side of his head with his finger.

"Hey, fuck you, man!" Donnovan shoved Glade backwards. This turned out to be a mistake.

Glade's fist flew out, barely missing Donnovan's face. In response, Donnovan charged forward, throwing his power armored body at Glade. He felt his shoulder connect, and with a loud clang, both men tumbled to the ground, throwing punches. Ash that had previously been laying on the ground swirled up into the air like a blizzard. Donnovan managed to connect a wild haymaker to Glade's chin before the two untangled themselves and straightened up. A powerful and unexpected roundhouse kick from Glade sent Donnovan stumbling to the right. He threw another punch wildly into Glade's direction as he staggered to the side, more out of instinct than anything else. He felt his fist fly through the empty air as his shoulder hit a tree, keeping him standing.

Donnovan looked back at Glade to see the large, muscular man let loose with another punch. Donnovan pushed away from the tree just in time as Glade's fist broke through the charred bark, sending black, dried shards flying through the air. Glade turned around to glare at Donnovan as the ruined tree teetered behind him with an echoing crack before plummeting to the ground, breaking into several pieces. Donnovan raised his fists again and took another step towards Glade, ready to block keep fighting. However, a lightning fast left hook from Glade connected hard to Donnovan's temple before he could block it. Pain erupted in Donnovan's head, echoing in his skull as he stumbled heavily, his vision shifting significantly from the powerful blow. He woozily staggered to his left, his right foot finding an old, dead root. The armored boot was caught and Donnovan felt his balance leave him as he fell, face forward, into the ash-covered dirt with a tumbling clank of metal. The ash flew up haphazardly in the wake of his armored body hitting the ground, slowly floating back down. Donnovan managed to turn himself onto his back, but his vision was still shaky. Glade's fist had hit very hard.

The entire expedition stared as an eerie silence settled in the forest. Ash continued to gently fall from the dead trees as everyone looked on, the only sound coming from Glade and Donnovan's heavy breathing.

"You've got some serious fucking problems, man." Glade breathed, running his hand across his jaw. Donnovan's punch had opened up a small cut on his lip. Donnovan stared silently back at him, a massive cut across the side of his head where Glade had punched him was bleeding badly, along with a small nick in his upper lip, which had been hit while the two had been fighting on the ground. "Get your shit together, otherwise, I don't wanna travel with your psycho ass." With that, he bent down and picked up his power helmet, which had fallen from his hands during the fight, and fit it back over his head. He gave Donnovan, who was still lying on the ground, one last glance before turning and walking away, his shoulder slightly clipping Morrill's as he passed him, heading for the pack Brahmin. Morgan kneeled next to Donnovan.

"You alright?" She asked, holding Donnovan his power helmet in her hands.

"Uh… yeah…" Donnovan grunted, watching Glade walk away. "Should've known better than to pick a fight with Glade, I guess."

"Yeah, about that." Morgan stated, a slight grin on her face. "I probably would've broken the fight up… but…"

"But…?"

"Well, you kind of needed an ass kicking to get your head back on straight after the shit in the bunker."

"Well thanks for that," Donnovan stated sarcastically, though he was unable to stop a faint smile from appearing on his lips. Morgan shoved Donnovan's helmet unceremoniously over his head.

"Now get up, come on." She said, straightening up and holding her hand out. Donnovan adjusted his helmet, then took Morgan's hand and allowed her to help him to his feet.

"Now that _that's_ out of our systems…" Sarah stated sardonically. The rest of the expedition turned their attention to her. "We need to figure out exactly what the plan is."

"Indeed." Cross, who was standing next to her, agreed. "Three of their number are dead. Killed by our hand."

"By the hands of Tweedledee and Tweedledum over there, actually." Glade jerked his head in the direction of Morgan and Donnovan.

"Glade, please." Cross asked kindly, glancing at him. Glade crossed his arms, but was silent. "It is very doubtful they will let this go without incident."

"Define 'incident', ma'am." Dusk spoke up.

"They will want to take vengeance for the killing of their comrades. I get the feeling we have stirred up the hornet's nest, here." Morrill announced. "They will want those who committed the acts more than the rest of use, no doubt."

"Well, giving the dipshits over to them isn't an option." Glade grunted. Donnovan cast a curious, sideways glance at him. "That doesn't mean I don't think you're a fucking psychopath." Glade added, addressing Donnovan without looking at him. "Just that we're all a family. No way we're just turning someone over."

"Well no shit," Dusk said. "But either way, what's the plan? We camp out and wait until this blows over?"

"I doubt they'll let it blow over." Sarah frowned. "Maybe we can just travel out of here as fast as we can, hide our armor, and pretend we don't know anything?"

"Amata?" Cross turned towards the former vault dweller. Amata looked surprised at being addressed. "You're a part of this group." Cross said warmly. "What do you think?"

"Well," Amata said, swallowing a lump in her throat. "We saw what happened to Sarah. That might happen again if we're not in uniform." She ended unsurely.

"That does make sense." Morrill nodded thoughtfully. Amata looked relieved.

"So, we fight then." Rockfowl offered. "Do we go on the offensive, or do we just travel and be wary of our surroundings?"

"I say we pick them off, little-by-little." Morgan said.

"Look, we cannot rule out the possibility that we will just be provoking them if we start on that." Sarah argued.

"I think we've already fucking 'provoked them', don't you?" Glade called.

"Uh…" Sarah paused. "Good point…"

"Why all the bullshit arguing?" Morgan said. "We know the shit's gonna hit the fan."

"Can we maybe watch that bunker and send someone out to try to talk to them?" Amata offered. There was a pause.

"Actually, yeah." Dusk nodded, looking at Amata, impressed. "We can set up along the tree line and watch."

"Who the hell's gonna be the poor bastard who walks out there, though?" Glade asked.

"I'll do it." Donnovan, who had been quiet up until this point, spoke up. Glade looked at him. "Shit, I'm the one that fucked up, so give me a chance to at least try to fix it."

"I'll go too. Gotta make sure you don't stab whoever you meet." Morgan shoved Donnovan playfully.

"So then," Morrill stated, "Shall we head back?"

….

The expedition was set up under the cover of the burned trees. Dusk was several meters in, lying on the ground, taking in her surroundings through the telescopic sight of her rifle. Amata was lying next to her, using what used to be Lucy's spotter scope. Glade was crouched down right near the edge of the tree line. He had broken down several small, dead trees and created a light form of visual cover for him and his massive minigun. The rest of the team was arrayed along the edges of the forest, and had buried themselves under branches. Donnovan and Morgan were lying next to each other, set up slightly further away from the others. The plan was for Donnovan and Morgan to greet the Midwestern Brotherhood that arrived. Hopefully, things would go without incident, and the expedition would move on. If not, Donnovan and Morgan would have to find cover somewhere near the small molehills and fallen logs near the bunker if, or more realistically, when, violence erupted. An hour had passed since the expedition had gotten set up. A thin layer of ash had settled on the grey armor of the travelers as they observed the area, moving very little. As they watched, several figures appeared in the distance, slowly trodding towards the bunker. A line of hulking, armored figures were making their way forward.

Donnovan turned and looked at Dusk and Amata's positions, waiting. Slowly, Dusk tilted her head to Amata, whispering something to her. Amata nodded, turned her face to Donnovan and Morgan, and held her hand out, all five fingers showing. She made a quick fist with her hand, then extended three of her fingers again.

"Eight guys," Donnovan whispered to Morgan, peering back at the figures as they gathered around the bunker entrance. One of them, a man in black armor with blue trim around the chest plate, shoulders, and the helm in his hand, stepped up to the door and rapped his fist against it. After there was no answer, he knocked again. Several members of his party exchanged glances as the black-armored man accessed the computer on the wall, causing the doors to open. With a nod, he led the way inside, his group following.

"Well... That's that." Morgan stated, slowly standing up, the ash lightly tumbling off of her armor as the last of the Midwestern Brotherhood soldiers entered the bunker and the doors closed. Donnovan followed her example.

"Ready for the walk?" Donnovan asked as he straightened up.

"Let's get this over with..." Morgan shrugged. "Let's just hope they don't get trigger happy the second they see us." She slowly took a step over the fallen tree in front of her, and began to stride towards the bunker. Donnovan fell into step beside her. The walk seemed to take almost no time at all as Donnovan and Morgan found themselves directly in front of the bunker doors, feeling the eyes of the expedition on the back of his heads. With an echoing screech, the bunker doors began to open. Donnovan and Morgan tensed up as the doors revealed several hulking figures standing in the entrance hall.


	20. The Spark

_Sorry it's been so long. I got hit with a nasty flu as well as a lot of college work. But I'm back at it, finally. I really missed writing this series. :)_

Part 20 – The Spark

"Here we go…" Donnovan muttered to Morgan as the figures stepped out of the bunker. As they did so, Donnovan felt his stomach clench and he and Morgan moved closer to the corner of the bunker. Five of the figures were armed with clean, spotless plasma rifles. Two others, who, from the look of their positions flanking the black-armored member, seemed to be his guards, held unrecognizable weapons. They looked like they could be laser rifles from their builds, except they were like no other laser rifles that Donnovan had seen before. They had wooden stocks and grips, and what looked like drum magazines attached in front of the trigger guards. The apparent leader held a massive, grey-tinged rifle that Donnovan immediately recognized as a Gauss rifle of the same make and model that he had run into during his time in the "Anchorage" simulation. This, however, was not the sole concern of the two members of the expedition facing down the squad of Midwestern Brotherhood members. Across their chest, grenades were clipped, strapped to their backs were a wide array of shotguns, and in hip holsters sat a range of dangerous looking melee weapons, from ripper viroblades to vicious looking axes and sledgehammers with armor piercing points at their ends. Donnovan took this opportunity to thank the fact that he was wearing his power helmet, as his mouth was open, and his eyes surely showed trepidation.

"Who are you?" The now helmeted, black-armored member of the group said.

"We… Are… travelers…" Morgan said uncertainly as she and Donnovan slowly backed away, attempting to get as close to the corner of the bunker as possible. "And you?"

"I am General Dekker of the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel. Now I ask you…" His voice became threatening, "are you of the East Coast Brotherhood?"

"Yes."

"We have become aware of the deaths of three of our brothers." Dekker stated. "It was undoubtedly committed by those in your party. As per the laws of our land, we would like them turned over to us for trial."

"We…" Donnovan paused, briefly looking at Morgan. She nodded. "We are the ones responsible for the killings."

There was a pause. Two of the Midwestern soldiers glanced at each other.

"Well…" Dekker looked taken aback. "I never really expected… It is good of you to step forward, but we must go with our laws."

"We'll have to discuss this." Morgan protested.

"There will be no discussion." Dekker stated darkly, as two of the soldiers began to step forward, one raising his rifle.

From the distance, the resounding crack of Dusk's rifle could be heard, and something small exploded into fragments on the chestplate of the attacking soldier, sending him stumbling backwards. Immediately, the entire situation changed. As the Midwestern Brotherhood went for their weapons, the second soldier coming towards the pair unholstered a sawed-off shotgun and leveled it at Morgan. The barrels erupted as shot sprayed forward, taking Morgan off of her feet and sending her falling hard to the dirt on her back. Gunfire erupted from the tree line as the expedition opened up onto the Midwesterners. Using the moment of distraction, Donnovan grabbed Morgan's arm, and with difficulty, dragged her armored body around the corner. Meanwhile, Dusk's rifle fired again, and blood sprayed from the knee of one of the Midwestern soldiers as the bullet found the unarmored niche on his right leg. He dropped to the ground grasping his leg in pain, as his comrades took cover behind the corner of the bunker opposite of Donnovan.

"MORGAN!" Donnovan shook her helmet desperately.

"Ow, you asshole!" She cursed, her voice slightly strained. "That doesn't help. I'm fine. Armor caught the shot. Still hurt like hell."

"Dusk missed…" Donnovan suddenly realized, glancing back at the tree line, where he heard the unmistakable roar of Eugene kick up, bullets spraying the corner of the bunker the Midwesterners had taken cover behind just as one of the Midwestern soldiers dragged his injured comrade out of the line of fire. Morgan picked herself up and walked to the opposite corner. Before looking, she jammed her rifle around the corner and let out a stream of blind fire. An answer came in the form of a pained yell. As she glanced around the corner to check her target, Donnovan saw Morrill and Cross, crouched low, sprinting towards them, attempting to keep out of sight of the Midwesterners.

"Shit, WAIT!" Morgan turned and yelled. Her injured target, with one hand, raised his rifle and fired. A massive green plasma bolt flew and clipped Cross on her side. She grimaced in pain as the shot impacted, causing her to stumble just barely out of cover. With almost no delay, another Midwesterner popped out from cover and pulled the trigger of his strange-looking rifle. A rapid succession of red lasers went flying forward, each one impacting Cross' armor, many shots boring through it. The first volley brought her to the ground, her hands and knees hitting the dirt. Her arms shook with pain as she attempted to push herself up, but a second stream from the automatic laser file ripped into her, several lasers unmistakably ripping through her chest. The many impacts sent her body back and she fell to the ground awkwardly, her legs bent beneath her back. There was a brief moment of silence as the impact of what had just happened sunk in.

"NO!" Donnovan yelled. "Motherfucker!" Donnovan surged forward past Morgan, pulling the pin of a plasma grenade as he went.

"Wait, D-" Morgan called. "Shit!" She shifted her position to the corner Donnovan had previous been shooting from, guarding it.

Donnovan meanwhile, in another brief moment of insanity, turned the corner and lobbed the grenade forward like a baseball. The explosive bounced off of the Midwesterner's armor almost comically, and as Donnovan hurled himself back behind cover, it exploded, melting the head and right shoulder of the injured soldier. His mind still in bloodlust, Donnovan threw himself around the corner and sprinted forward, drawing his .44 as he went. As he did so, another Midwesterner mirrored his actions, stepping out to fire. Catching him by surprise, Donnovan barreled into the soldier, taking him off of his feet and tackling him to the dirt. He pressed the barrel of the revolver to the man's eyepiece as they both fell and fired. The shot echoed in both of their helms as the round dug into the man's brain and Donnovan's pounding heart briefly slowed. As his head cleared, he suddenly realized that it had been three seconds since he heard a gunshot. He slowly turned his head to the left to realize that he had thrown himself past the wall and into open ground. He was at the mercy of the Midwesterners. Mercy, however, was not apparently on their mind, as Donnovan managed to glimpse the flat bludgeoning end of a massive sledgehammer flying into his face before everything went dark.

….

The first sense Donnovan felt was the overpowering smell of ammonia filling his nostrils. He jerked his head up as he woke, and he immediately wished he hadn't done so. His head pounded heavily, and there was massive pain all across half of his face. The left side of his skull ached terribly as he slowly opened his eyes. He was in a dingy, dark room. The metal walls had large patches of rust around them. His power armor was stripped off of him, and his traveling clothes were matted with sweat. His arms were bound by what felt like handcuffs, connected to the metal chair he was sitting in. Directly in front of him, a crouched, helmeted figure in power armor had his hand held out near Donnovan's face. Lying in his palm was a small, white packet. Donnovan looked up in confusion. His vision cleared and he focused on the two figures standing in front of him as the soldier stood up and stepped away.

"You are awake." General Dekker examined him with his eyes, his helmet removed. He was a rather imposing man with a thick, black beard and mustache, and a scar over his left eye.

"How… how long was I out?" Donnovan asked wearily.

"You've been in and out of brief consciousness for about two hours now." Said the power armored woman with short brown hair that was standing next to Dekker. A strange looking sword was in a sheath on her waist. Donnovan contorted his nose, the smell of ammonia seemed caught in his nasal cavity. "The ammonium carbonate smell will go away eventually."

"Now, then." General Dekker stated walking up to Donnovan. "We have much to speak about, prisoner. First of all, I extremely dislike this informality. May I ask your name…? Your full name?"

"Donnovan Edan." Donnovan answered, looking up at him.

"Well, Donnovan Edan. You are obviously part of the Brotherhood of Steel, judging from what we already know and from your armor. Please, your title." General Dekker stated, surprisingly calmly.

"Knight Donnovan Edan." Donnovan answered, looking at Dekker with some slight confusion.

"Well then, Knight Edan." Dekker said. "As you already know, I am General Dekker. This is my bodyguard, Paladin Kara."

Donnovan nodded awkwardly.

"We captured you after your little skirmish with us." Kara stated. "Several of our soldiers were killed beforehand, and two more in the fight. I believe one of your party fell in the battle as well."

"Oh, shit…" Donnovan suddenly remember. "Cross…"

"Was that the name of your companion that was killed?" Dekker asked. Donnovan's heart sank. So she had, in fact, died. He suddenly had to fight to keep tears from welling up in his eyes.

"Yeah… Star Paladin Cross." Donnovan answered, his voice clearly breaking. "She… She was…." He trailed off, clenching his teeth, fearing that if he kept talking, he would break out into sobs.

Several seconds of silence followed, as Donnovan hung his head, staring at his feet. A single tear drop fell on the laces of his right boot. Dekker glanced at the Midwestern soldier standing nearby and jerked his head to the door, indicating that they should leave. Slowly, the trio filed out, shutting the door behind them. There was an echoing screech as they slid the large, metal lock into place.

"Fuck." Donnovan sobbed, tears beginning to flow down the sides of his face. "No… No…" Within the span of several hours, he had lost the two people closest to him. First Lucy, someone who he was sure he had a connection with, and now Cross. Cross had been his guiding light, his bodyguard, and his source of support in hard times. She had even become somewhat of a mother figure for him during his travels. They had fought side-by-side to eliminate the last of the Enclave and had traveled the wastes together extensively. He had become so used to her presence that now, thinking about her absence, was too much. Slowly, a sob escaped his lips as he thought back on all of the situations he and Cross had been in. Another sob escaped his lips, and another, until before he knew it, he was sobbing openly, tears flowing from his eyes.

"Stop bawling like a fucking baby." A rough voice suddenly stated. Taken by surprise, Donnovan cough slightly, and glanced up. Standing in front of him was a strange looking man. He work a full set of black leather armor. His brown hair hung in front of his scarred face, in which eerie yellow eyes were set. His mouth was contorted in a scowl as he glared at Donnovan.

"What… What the fuck?" Donnovan hiccupped, wiping the tears from his face with his shoulders. "How did you get in here?" He looked around the completely bare room, trying to locate a spot where this strange man could've been hiding.

"Get over your tears, you little bitch. I was here the whole time. You just didn't realize it." The man growled.

"Wha-?... How?"

"Jesus, you're like a baby bird with its mouth open, waiting for me to spew some fucking answers into your mouth. All you need to know now, is that I'm going to help you get the hell out of here."

"How do you know me?" Donnovan asked, bewildered.

"I've been watching since you burned the chapel of the Transition Twilight Hand." The man grinned evilly. "You seem to be losing your grip on your sanity."

Donnovan simply stared for several minutes. His mind was a blur, trying to figure out exactly what was going on.

"Why are you here?" Donnovan finally asked.

"I'm going to help you do what you want to do." The man said.

"So… what do I want to do?" Donnovan said, his eyes squinting slightly in confusion.

"Kill all of these Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel." The man grinned.

"I think I've already put my friend in danger enough by killing three of them, don't you?" Donnovan asked, loudly.

"Keep it down." The man growled. "What's done is done. Now the rest have to go." The man added.

"No way." Donnovan tilted his head slightly. "I started this whole thing off by killing Daniels."

A sneer appeared on the man's face, his eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.

"He deserved to die… They all deserve to die."

Donnovan looked at the man with a mixture of confusion and fear.

"What's your name?" Donnovan asked, a look of concern on his face.

"Call me… Ishmael."


	21. Tribunal

**Part 21 - Tribunal**

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Ishamel glanced behind him, his eyes suddenly alert.

"Keep quiet, and just do what they tell you." Ishmael warned. "I'm going to head back to the others and see if we can't break you out of here."

"Wait!" Donnovan began. "You're helping the exp-?"

"Shut your fucking mouth." Ishmael growled as he slipped what looked to be a stealth boy onto his wrist and activated it. Ishmael's wrist turned transparent, and slowly, with the consistency of water, the rest of his body began disappearing. Just as his boots became invisible, the heavy screech of the lock echoed through the room, and the door swung open. Paladin Kara had returned.

"They are ready for you. You will now be tried." She announced.

"I... what?" Donnovan stated, his eyes moving from the corner of the room that Ishmael had been in just seconds before.

"Your trial, for what you've done." Kara repeated.

"Do I-" Donnovan began.

"Before you ask." She interrupted. "Yes, you can speak to defend yourself." She walked up to Donnovan, adjusted the handcuffs around his wrists, and forced him to his feet. "Now walk."

Donnovan's head was spinning. First this man Ishmael had appeared and told him of a plan to kill the rest of the Midwestern Brotherhood. Now he was being forced to stand trial. Attempting to keep his mind calm, he did as he was told, marching forward out of the room and into a metal hallway lined with electrical wire and pipes. Up ahead of him was a junction, with another hallway to the right, and a staircase directly in front of him.

"Where?" Donnovan asked.

"Stairs." Kara responded gruffly.

Donnovan's mind was racing. He attempted to conjure up some sort of escape plan, but nothing was coming to him as he walked on. He slowly descended the staircase, Kara walking directly behind him. As Donnovan's feet hit the landing, he paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, but immediately felt the heavy, armored hand of Paladin Kara push him onward. They walked further, and up ahead, Donnovan saw a doorway on the left side of the hall. A large, lighted, overhead sign proclaimed "Tribunal", with an arrow pointing to the doorway.

"Alright, so what's the process here?" Donnovan asked.

"They will tell you what you are being charged with. You will speak in defense of yourself. Then they will come to a decision. It is very simple."

"Any process to defending myself?"

"You have to show that you certainly did not commit what you are accused of committing." Kara explained.

"Whoa, wait." Donnovan grunted as they neared the door. "Guilty until proven innocent? Isn't that kind of an ass-backwards way of doing it?"

"It's resolved more problems than the traditional way." Kara stated matter-of-factly.

"I'll bet..." Donnovan muttered under his breath and they both stopped at the doorway, which had a speaker built into the wall to the right.

"Go in..." Kara stated. "They are waiting for you."

With nothing else to do, Donnovan stepped forward into a dark, cavernous room. Down a short, wide staircase, a long red rug was laid out. It stretched across the room to the opposite wall, where a massive flag was hung. The logo seemed to be similar to that of the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel, with the winged sword superimposed over three gears. This logo, however, was golden, and the gears were set to the left of the sword, unlike the familiar right. In front of the flag sat three high desks, at which were seated three people. The man in the center was General Dekker himself. To the right sat a dark-haired, older woman with wizened features. The far left seat was occupied by a dark-skinned, bald man. His elbows were set on the desk, his fingertips together as he observed Donnovan.

"Knight Edan of the East Coast Brotherhood of Steel." The ringing voice of General Dekker called out across the room.

"Yes." Donnovan answered. "Sir..." He added hastily.

"Come closer, please." Dekker stated.

Donnovan slowly walked forward, looking to his left and right. Various pictures were hung along the walls, mainly of proud looking men and women in Brotherhood robes. There were several empty spots, with one already having a frame placed in anticipation of an upcoming portrait. Turning his attention back to the rug he was walking on, Donnovan noticed a large embroidery of a set of scales stitched into the carpet several feet in front of the high desks. Donnovan stopped, his feet directly on the center of the scales. Paladin Kara, who had been following him, walked over to the left wall and leaned against it, keeping her eyes on Donnovan.

"So, this is Knight Edan, is it?" The man on the left stated. His voice was deep and booming.

"It is, indeed." The older women stated.

"Are you ready, Knight Edan?" Dekker stated.

"Uh, yes... Sirs and... madame?" Donnovan responded nervously, not quite sure how to address the three people how would no doubt be his judges. He had decided to curb his generally dismissive attitude, as it had already gotten him into trouble several times since he had left the Capital Wasteland.

"Knight Donnovan Edan of the East Coast Brotherhood of Steel." Dekker stated. "I am General Dekker of the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel. To my right, is Elder Melan, to my left, is Elder Marsina. We are members of the Tribunal, the court of our people. You stand here charged with the murder of three knights of the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel. Keep one thing in mind. We are a separate entity. We do not pass down rulings from the Lost Hills, and we have no duty to them. We are, by all accounts, our own faction. We function by our own laws. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Donnovan said, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Do you have any questions for us so far?" Elder Marsina asked, her voice slightly shaky with age, but nevertheless very authoritative.

"No, ma'am..." Donnovan responded without thinking. "Actually, yes..." He said. "I apologize."

"Go on." Edler Marsina nodded.

"You stated I'm being charged with the murder of three knights."

"Yes."

"What about the two knights I... um..."

"The knights that you felled in battle are not to be considered in this case." Elder Melan spoke up. "They were killed in battle, as was a member of your party. Though this will not go without discussion, you are not being charged with an offense, as all of this occurred during a legitimate battle."

"I see." Donnovan nodded. He was slowly calming down. So long as he answered their questions respectfully and acted rationally, he might just live through this.

"We must know, however." General Dekker said. "The name of the fallen warrior on your side. You mentioned it previously. It was Star Paladin Cross?"

"Yes, sir." Donnovan nodded. He had to swallow to keep his voice steady.

"You have heard the charges levied against you." Dekker went on. "Because your companion that also admitted to the murders was not captured, and because the rest of your group managed to elude us, you will bear the full responsibility."

"I... understand." Donnovan grunted. At least this wasn't unexpected.

"What is your defense?" Elder Melan's booming voice carried across the hall.

"I lost control." Donnovan stated. "In retrospect, I would not have killed Knight Daniels. But he killed someone dear to me."

"I have only Knight Daniels' side of the story via the radio." General Dekker stated. "Please elaborate"

"We were walking through an open field." Donnovan stated, shutting his eyes and attempting to shut his feelings out and give a purely fact-based account. "As we came around a rock, Knight Daniels shot one of our expedition. He also managed to destroy one of the robots traveling with us, a Protectron."

"And how did you know it was Knight Daniels that fired the shot?" Elder Melan asked.

"He was holding a sniper rifle." Donnovan recalled. "He was the only one of the three soldiers who had one on his person. When he was interrogated by another member of the party I was traveling in, he stammered out an apology."

"Was the apology for his group, or for himself?" Elder Marsina questioned him.

"Himself. He said 'I'm so sorry about that' if my memory serves me correctly." Donnovan answered.

"'If'?" Elder Melan raised an eyebrow.

"I apologize," Donnovan stated hurriedly. "I'm sure of it. I would not forget the words of the man who killed her."

"What was her name?" General Dekker asked. "The name of the woman who was killed."

"Lucy West." Donnovan stated. Elder Melan briefly wrote something onto a sheet of paper in front of him. "Her name was Lucy West." Donnovan's voice finally cracked slightly.

"Take your time." Dekker stated. A heavy silence fell upon the room. Donnovan stared at the carpet for several seconds, managing to pull himself back together. He looked up at the Tribunal and nodded.

"Alright." Dekker said. "So what happened afterward?"

"They brought us into the bunker... That's... That's all I really remember until I was stabbing Daniels." Donnovan said. "I'm speaking truthfully. My memories are just blank between those two events."

Elder Marsina put the back of her hand under her chin and rested her elbow on her desk, her eyes looking at Donnovan with a calculating intensity.

"How did Knight Everette and Knight Bormin die, then?" Elder Melan asked.

"My other companion, the one that was with me before I was captured?" Donnovan explained. "She took them down."

"Her name?" Elder Melan asked.

Donnovan paused briefly.

"I... apologize," He said. "But I will not give you her name."

"And why is this?" General Dekker asked, looking down at Donnovan.

"You have stated that the charges are against me and only me, correct?"

"Yes." Elder Melan acknowledged, while an amused smile formed on the lips of Elder Marsina.

"Then there is no reason for me to divulge that information." Donnovan stated, staring forward at the desk, too nervous to make eye contact with any of the Tribunal members. A silence fell upon the room yet again. Several seconds later, General Dekker spoke up.

"Very well, your point does make sense." He stated, his face expressionless. Elder Melan glanced at him curiously.

"You do indeed have a valid argument." Elder Marsina stated, a shrewd smile on her face. "It is apparent that you understand the position you're in very well."

"Yes ma'am." Donnovan nodded, avoiding her gaze.

"Is there anything else you would like to add, Knight Edan?" General Dekker asked.

"No, sir."

"Any questions for any of us?"

"No sir."

"Alright." General Dekker stated. "We must convene and come to a decision. Paladin Kara will escort you out."

"Thank you," Donnovan stated, bowing.

"Oh, Paladin Kara." Elder Marsina called.

"Yes, ma'am?" Kara said.

"Give Knight Edan something to calm his nerves, please." She stated. "Do you smoke, Knight Edan?"

"Yes ma'am." Donnovan nodded. "And I would greatly appreciate a cigarette."

"Alright. Please provide him with out, Paladin Kara. Both of you are dismissed." She said.

"Come on." Paladin Kara said, motioning back across the room with her head. With one more glance at the Tribunal, Donnovan led the way out. As they exited the room, Kara shut the door behind them. "You want a smoke, right?" She asked, dropping her formal tone.

"Uh, yes. Please." Donnovan said, surprised. "Why the sudden attitude change?"

"You weren't as conceited and arrogant as I thought you were going to be." Paladin Kara said. She procured a cigarette from one of her pockets and handed it to Donnovan. He lifted his handcuffed hands, took the cigarette, and put it to his lips. Kara lit it for him, and Donnovan inhaled deeply. The acrid smoke filled his lungs, making him give the tiniest of coughs. He held the smoke in for several seconds, then craned his head back and exhaled, letting the smoke billow out and disperse against the metal ceiling. Almost immediately, he felt some tension leave his body. He relaxed slightly, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. Paladin Kara remained silent as Donnovan smoked and the cigarette burned down. Soon, however, a buzz could be heard. Donnovan opened his eyes to see Paladin Kara pressing a button on a speaker.

"Yes?" She asked.

"We are ready to give our decision." General Dekker's voice came through the speaker.

"We are coming back inside." Paladin Kara answered. She opened the door and turned to Donnovan. "Go ahead."

Donnovan took one last, deep drag on his cigarette, burning it down to the filter, then tossed the butt to the ground, stepping on his with his boot. He turned his head and exhaled away from Kara.

"Here we go." He muttered, stepping back into the chamber.


	22. Conflicting Thoughts

**_To all of my readers, I apologize for how long it has taken me to continue this story. Real life sometimes just gets in the way. Between work and finishing up college, I had a lot on my plate. Afterwards, I had kind of lost the idea for how I wanted the story to progress. In the last few days, though, all of the ideas came flooding back to me. I had some specific elements planned and had forgotten them until recently. I'm VERY happy to be continuing this series, regardless._**

**Part 22 – Conflicting Thoughts**

With Kara accompanying him, Donnovan slowly descended the staircase into the tribunal hall and walked forward. He stared at the floor between his feet as he walked forward, far too nervous to make eye contact with any of the tribunal members. What would his verdict be? What would his fate be?

He felt a sudden impact on his head, and he stumbled backwards briefly, looking angrily in front of him to as if the hit was the fault of the thick mahogany that made up the tribunal desks. He looked up, dazed to see the tribunal members staring at him with looks of incredulity. Kara, who had taken up her old position by the wall, snickered, and Donnovan turned slightly red. He had apparently been so lost in though that he had run headfirst into the front of General Dekker's high desk. He stepped back, rubbing his forehead, and glanced sheepishly at the tribunal.

"So..." Elder Melan stated. "Is everything in order?"

"I believe so." Dekker nodded. "Knight Donnovan Edan, are you ready to hear our verdict?"

"Yes, sir." Donnovan managed to say. His throat was dry as he nervously waited for the answer.

"Those who say 'not-guilty'." Elder Melan called. To his and Donnovan's surprise, Elder Marsina raised her hand.

"Oh... well..." Melan stated, caught somewhat off guard. "Okay, one. Those in favor of conviction." He raised his hand. General Dekker, meanwhile, was looking from Marsina to Donnovan, when his eyes lit up.

"I'll abstain." He stated, a sly grin appearing on his face. Marsina and Melan looked at him.

"This is... unexpected." Elder Melan said, looking confused. "I don't believe I've ever seen all three judges vote three different ways. Do we default to guilty, in this case?"

Donnovan's heart skipped a beat.

"No... No... He will have to go back to his cell." Dekker stated, still peering interestedly at Donnovan.

"How about..." Elder Marsina glanced at General Dekker, and suddenly had a spark in her eyes as well. "We set our guest up in one of the visitor's rooms, but under guard?"

"What?" Elder Melan exclaimed. "That is preposterous!"

"No, no. He's been a prisoner with us for a while, and has not caused any problems. We should at least give him some comforts." Elder Marsina said.

"This is ridiculous." Elder Melan grunted as Paladin Kara walked up to Donnovan.

"What room?" She asked.

"Any of them." Dekker stated. "Make sure he understands his new surroundings, please."

"Yes, sir." Paladin Kara nodded. She turned to Donnovan. "Hold our your hands." Donnovan did as commanded, and Kara hooked a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. "Okay, follow me."

Kara walked directly to Donnovan's right again, escorting him out of the room. Donnovan took one last glance at the tribunal. Marsina and Dekker were now leaning in close to Melan, and were explaining something to him. Judging by the way Melan's eyes went from Donnovan to his fellow judges, it was something rather important.

…...

"Here." Kara stated, opening a door for Donnovan. It opened into a dimly lit, grey room. Though it was slightly smaller than the large interrogation room he had been in previously, there was a showerhead and drain in one corner, with a sink and toilet nearby, a sheet serving as a privacy barrier. A small bed was set up against one of the walls, and a dresser was against the wall, opposite.

"There'll be a guard outside, and the door will be locked." Kara explained. She glanced at Donnovan. "You should consider yourself lucky, you know. You're being treated well for what you did." She ran her hand across her short brown hair, obviously slightly confused. Donnovan simply stared as she stepped out of the room, closing and bolting the door behind her. Donnovan turned, examining his new surroundings. He walked over to the dresser, opening one of the doors. Finding it empty, he wandered over to the shower, lightly turning on the nob and letting a small stream flow from the shower head. As he rinsed his face off, his mind had settled down considerably. Though the thoughts of the conflict he had caused were still there, but he was now more saddened by it than angered.

_"These Midwesterners aren't all that bad, really." _Donnovan thought. _"Shit happens, mistakes are made... Hell, they set me up rather well, gave me a fair trial. Maybe this guilty until proven innocent does work."_ He turned the shower off and dried his face before lightly throwing himself onto the bed. It was rather comfortable, he had to admit. With these thoughts swirling in his head, and the fact that he still had not been issued a complete verdict, it wasn't long before he passed into sleep from the mental exhaustion of the day.

…...

His dreams were rather varied, from guns firing on their own into full-face helmets, to Moira Brown in Megaton attempting to sell him Allistair Tenpenny's head on a stick. A cloaked figure carrying a package ran swiftly across a cactus-dotted desert. A more gigantic version of Liberty Prime picked up Rivet City and hurled it across the Capital Wasteland. A molerat, in mid air, slowly floated forward. It opened its mouth, an unintelligible sound drifting out.

"Jksss" It grunted, it's head looking comically more disproportionate to it's body than usual. "Jaksss", it tried hissing again. Donnovan's shifted uncomfortably. Was it tried to speak with him? The molerat locked eyes with him and opened it's mouth wide. "Oi, JACKASS." A distinctly human-sounding voice came hissing from it's mouth. Donnovan's eyes opened in surprise, and he sat up in his bed.

"Molerats can curse?" He grunted aloud, his mind not quite clear.

"Molerats?" Ishmael's face whispered loudly through the barred window set in the door of Donnovan's cell. His face was contorted in annoyed confusion. "The fuck do Molerats-? Gah, never mind. Get your ass over here, numbnuts."

Donnovan scrambled out of bed and ran up to the window.

"Wha-what?" He asked.

"Well they gave you comfortable digs, didn't they?" Ishmael sneered. "Either way, we're breaking you out of here."

"We?" Donnovan asked.

"Yeah." Morgan's face appeared right next to Ishmael's, with Olin behind them.

"Out of the way." Olin told Ishmael, who stepped back, giving her an annoyed glance.

"Uh, don't thank me for bringing you to your friend or anything." He grunted.

"Let me work, alright?" Olin rolled her eyes, affixing a blowtorch to a small, metal container. She slipped a pair of goggles over her eyes. "You two might wanna look away." She told Ishmael and Morgan. "You too, Don."

Without thinking, Donnovan covered his eyes and stepped back. A continuous popping sound resounded, lasting only several seconds before a very low ring of metal could be heard.

"You got it?" Morgan asked, turning back.

"Yep." Olin said, carefully removing the bolt that locked Donnovan's cell door then putting her goggles back on her forehead. The door slid open, and the trio stepped in. Olin immediately threw her arms around Donnovan, giving him a hug.

"Damn!" Morgan gave a low whistle. "This is nicer than what you guys have in the Citadel!"

"There's no fucking time." Ishmael grunted, putting a massive rucksack down on the floor as quietly as he could. "We have to go, now. Get your shit on, now."

"Where-?" Donnovan gaped. "How-?"

"I have plenty of Stealth Boys, dipshit. Now hurry." Ishmael said.

"Get you gear on, Don." Morgan commanded. Donnovan, in the adrenaline of the rescue and with several people commanding him, quickly strapped into his gear without thinking. It was nice to feel his armor again. Just then, one overpowering thought hit him.

"Guys, wait." Donnovan spoke up. "I... can't go."

"Huh?" Olin's face fell.

"Why?" Morgan cocked an eyebrow.

"My... My trial's not done yet." Donnovan explained, his freshly re-acquired AK-47 hanging at his side. "These guys aren't too bad. They have fair system going on."

"You're shitting me, right?" Morgan gawked.

"Fuck me..." Ishmael said. "What, you got Stockholm Syndrome already?"

"Not, honestly... It's-"

"Listen, you moron. I told you I'd do what I had to do to help you, didn't I?" Ishmael said. "So I am, now shut up and let's go."

"Who the fuck are you, anyway?" Donnovan finally asked. Ishmael paused.

"Alright, fine." He glanced at Morgan and Olin briefly before continuing. "I've been following you for a while, you already know that. Imagine my surprise when your caravan managed to make it to New Jerusalem, my home."

"You're from New Jerusalem?" Donnovan gasped. "But... You said you'd been following me since-"

"The mansion, yeah." Ishmael nodded. "I thought I'd lost you when you morons went through Hellfire Crater, but lo and behold, I saw you guys coming through New Vegas. I told Shorik David from the beginning that you needed to be watched after what I saw you do, but he didn't do anything about it. He said everyone was free to make their own way. Well, you taking down of the Twilight Hand church changed that. He tasked me with following you, keeping an eye on you."

"Well how the fuck have you managed to keep out of sight from us for so long?" Morgan asked. "We have possibly one of the best snipers in the world with us."

"But not the best infiltrators. I'm part of the New Jerusalem Mossad."

"Fuck me." Donnovan gasped.

"Yes, now that I've told you my life story, let's fucking GO."

"What do we do about these Midwestern Brotherhood bastards?" Morgan asked.

"I've already told Donnovan here. They deserve to die," Ishmael grinned eerily at Donnovan. "But not right now. Right now, we need to get the he-"

"Why is your-?" Paladin Kara had stepped into the room and froze. Almost immediately, her hand went to her submachine gun, but Morgan kicked out, sending Kara backwards into the wall. Kara's head hit a metal pipe hard, knocking her unconscious, her finger pulling down on the trigger of her sidearm, sending a spray of bullets down the hallway, the gunshots and ricochets echoed loudly through the base. Almost immediately, shouts could be heard.

"FUCK!" Ishmael cursed. "See what happens when we stick around for story time? LET'S GO! NO MORE ARGUMENTS!" Ishmael grabbed Donnovan's shoulder and pulled him towards the doorway, Morgan shielding Olin right behind them.

"You sure you know where you're going?" Morgan yelled, the need for discretion gone as a heavy alarm began to ring through the hallways.

"No, I've only sneaked in here three fucking time." Ishmael yelled sarcastically, moving quickly up staircases and around turns. It was rather dizzying for Donnovan, but eventually, they reached a long metal hallway that seemed to finish in a dead-end staircase.

"Wait, it's cut off!" Donnovan yelled.

"No it's not, just go!" Ishmael pulled him along. As the passed a branching off hallway to their left, a sudden heavy roar resounded, and Ishmael's grip suddenly loosened from Donnovan's shoulder, his body flying backwards, bleeding heavily. As it hit the wall, Ishmael's body vanished. The impact had apparently set off one of the Stealth Boys on his wrist. Donnovan stumbled forward briefly, falling to the ground.

"Fuck!"

"Go Don, go!" Morgan yelled, taking aim and firing her assault rifle down the hallway. Donnovan heard the unmistakable sound of a power armored body hitting the ground heavily as he moved on.

"What about Ishmael?" He called back.

"Go." A injured-sounding voice whispered in his ear. "I'm fine. I'm here. Just go..."

With no time to question Ishmael's logic, Donnovan went on, throwing the doors open into the night. He tripped again, falling to the dirt.

"Motherfucker." He grunted, picking himself up. Olin appeared behind him. She immediately busied herself with some wiring near the doorway. Several seconds later, Morgan came barreling out from the doorway.

"Hit it, let's go!" She yelled. "Ishmael's gone!"

"Got it!" Olin gasped, pressing a lever down. "We've got 15 seconds!"

With that, the trio tore off running from the bunker, into the rocky cliff around it. They dove behind a set of boulders. No sooner had Olin hidden herself behind the rocks, than a massive explosion rocked the area, sending fire several feet into the sky and causing the ground to shake.

"GO!" Morgan stated, her voice dropping to a loud whisper as she ushered Olin and Donnovan further up a rocky path that climbed from the bunker. They reached the top of the bluff and found themselves at the edge of the familiar burnt forest that they had traveled through earlier.

"Fucking hell..." Morgan cursed.

"Ishmael didn't make it..." Olin sighed.

"No, too much-DROP" Morgan commanded, pulling both Olin and Donnovan to the ground. From a split in the top of the bluff, they had a good view of the doorway they had exited from. Two Midwesterners in full power armor were battling the remnants of the fire with extinguishers, while General Dekker and Paladin Kara stepped outside, looking at the area around them, talking.

"Good, they have no idea." Morgan nodded. "Stay low, follow me." Still flat on her stomach, Morgan crawled into the tree line, Olin right behind her. Donnovan took one last, slightly guilt-ridden glance at Kara before following his companions, disappearing into the night.


	23. A Stark Realization

**Part 23 – A Stark Realization**

Every part of his body ached as Donnovan ran through the desolate, ash covered woods, following Morgan and Olin. It seemed like they had been going for hours, when Morgan finally slowed them down. Donnovan bent over, putting his hands on his knees. He was in good shape, but running full speed in power armor would even tire someone like Glade out. Donnovan breathed hard, his voice rasping through his mask. Olin seemed the least out of breath, a strange looking mask on her face. It had oval eyepieces and ran downwards, ending in a long snout, giving her face the appearance of an ant eater. A circular piece near the mouth was connected to a hose that ran down her back to a small pouch on her belt. Morgan leaned against a nearby try to steady herself, accidentally shaking a significant amount of ash off of the branches. It fell slowly, almost majestically, lightly rolling over her armor like snow and tumbling down to join the almost ankle deep blanket beneath her feet.

"I think..." Morgan gasped, "We're far enough away..."

Donnvan was the first to straighten up. He looked back in the direction from which they came. Their tracks led deep into the forest and disappeared into the thick, gray, ash-born fog. Every direction around him looked the same; fired charred trees and falling ash stretched in every direction.

"Uh... Morgan?" Donnovan asked, finally catching his breath. "Where are we?"

"I'm not sure." She admitted. Donnovan looked at her in surprise. "Hey, don't blame me. We had an escape route planned, but your mental detour delayed us. We had to take an alternate path."

"Yeah, well..." Donnovan began, before realizing Morgan was completely right. "Well... Never mind... Right... Sorry..." He trailed off.

"Don't worry about it," Morgan stated dismissively. "We're here now, so we might as well work from here."

"We've been traveling northwest, if that helps." Olin announced, her voice muffled by the mask.

"Where are the others?" Donnovan asked, glancing at Olin.

"Southwest..." Olin answered with some defeat in her voice.

"Shit..." Morgan emphasized. "We're heading deeper into the woods."

"Can't we just go southwest?" Donnovan offered.

"We could, but we set up outside what we thought was the southwest corner of the forest." Olin explained.

"And?" Donnovan shrugged, confused.

"We traveled north, northeast to get to where you were..." Morgan muttered while digging into her pack. "So looks like the forest definitely goes on to the north and west."

"Wish we still had Ishmael here." Olin said with an air of regret.

Donnovan paused for a moment, glancing at the trees around him.

"Friggin' horrible..." Donnovan mumbled.

"Speak up, I can't hear you." Morgan looked up from checking a piece of paper she had fished out of her pack. Olin was standing behind her, eyes fixed on the paper.

"Oh, never mind. It's... nothing." Donnovan said. Morgan, her face hidden by her helmet, examined Donnovan for several seconds before her power helmet's eyepieces went back to the piece of paper.

"I feel like shit..." Donnovan muttered aloud, staring at the ash-covered ground. "Lucy's dead, Cross is dead... People... are just..."

"Oh Christ, not this again." Morgan said, standing up. Donnovan looked at her, surprised. "What, you expect mollycoddling and sympathy? Fuck off. You think the rest of us haven't felt pain?" Donnovan stared silently. "You've been in this self-righteous, bleeding-heart stage for months now, ever since we had left New Jerusalem. You remember our conversation the first day after?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts, shut up and listen." Morgan cut him off. "Your whole "I don't get people" musing? I let it slide, because I did see that you were conflicted about the whole thing. It's about time you got over it. Stop your bullshit, you're not the only one carrying a fucking burden."

"Could you-" Donnovan began, when through the ash-choked forest, a steady, faint scratching sound reached their ears. Donnovan and Morgan both stood up, their argument ending immediately as they pulled out their rifles. They carefully ushered Olin in between them and stood, backs to each other, examining the dead trees around them. The faint sound grew louder. It was distinct and they could now hear a very slight, ringing echo. Donnovan's arm tensed as the sound grew ever louder, sounding like metal scraping against hard-packed dirt. Then, from the thick falling ash to Donnovan's left, a faint outline of a figure could be seen. As the figure drew closer, the trio saw that it was pulling something behind it with the help of what looked to be a rope. As the sound and figure both drew closer, Donnovan could discern a thick bushy beard from under the figure's hood. As the mysterious man walked on, the group could also make out what looked like a makeshift sled fashioned from a wheelbarrow and spare pieces of wood. The man was dragging it heavily, his face glancing down at the ash-covered ground as he strained his body against the rope. He drew closer and closer until he was no more than several feet from the trio, at which point he suddenly stopped. He lifted his head slowly, turning to look at Donnovan, Morgan, and Olin. A chill ran down Donnovan's spine as he looked at the man's face. It was shallow and gaunt. The man's wizened face was carved with lines of age and pain, but yet had a toughened look to it. His right cheek and jaw were blackened, as if he had suffered heavy burns. His eyes, a very pale blue, were fixed on the trio. His white hair was matted under the ragged, brown hood of his dirty coat. His hands were caked in dirt and black bits of wood coal. On the sled behind him lay a woman who looked significantly worse off than him. Her age would've been hard to determine from the black, crinkled skin that ran up her neck and covered most of her face. Her eyes were closed, mouth open. She was breathing, but barely it seemed. Her face was more wrinkled than the man's, and the many layers of blankets made her seem much skinnier than she already was. A bandana was tied under her chin, most of the cloth protecting her scalp and face from the falling ash.

The scene wasn't so much terrifying as it was eerie, and Donnovan felt his rifle hang loosely in his right hand. The old man watched them for several seconds, seemingly examining their power armor, specifically Morgan's. Finally, he wordlessly turned and slowly continued on his way, pulling the woman along on the sled. The scraping sound of the metal and wood of the sled scratching against the dirt and stones on the ground picked up again, slightly punctuating with every step the man took. Donnovan, Morgan, and Olin all watched in dumbfounded silence as the man struggled on, not giving them a second glance. They stayed quiet as he disappeared, heading northeast, deeper into the forest.

Without speaking, Olin and Morgan looked on through the trees where the man had eventually faded from sight in the gray-tinged air. Donnovan, meanwhile, was following the path the man's sled had made with his eyes. Without waiting for the others, Donnovan set off in the direction from which the man had come. The twigs crunched under his feet as he walked, and he had been walking for a good minute before the others realized where he had gone.

"Don... Hey, Don! Where...?" Olin's voice echoed slightly through the trees behind him. She glanced at Morgan, who tilted her head in his direction. With that, the two women set off after him, walking quickly as to catch up. Donnovan did not break stride as he walked, his eyes on the ground, following the swath the man's sled had left in the ash. After a time, he felt his feet stumble slightly, and he paused. He had walked into a clearing. In the very center, in a small area the least covered with ash, a ragged, blue tent was set up in the center. It was shabbily thrown together from rusted poles and a blue tarp. Several ripped and blackened pieces of cloth lay scattered about. Most disturbing were three mounds several feet from the tent, a small, bent hand shovel laying nearby. Shabby crosses had been created from the burned wood of the surrounding forest and were set in the dirt, marking each mound.

"Whoa..." Olin muttered as she and Morgan followed Donnovan into the clearing.

Donnovan strode up to the three graves, and looked at them silently, his expression blank under his power helmet. Something near the cross of the left grave caught his eye. He came closer and kneeled next to the mound, examining the object. A fuzzy, brown teddy bear was leaning against the blackened wood of the cross. It's fur was badly singed in places, and black streaks of wood coal covered the entire toy. One of its button eyes were missing and the stitching on one of the legs had burst, a small amount of stuffing poking through the tear. Immediately, every feeling of Donnovan's emotional pain, of anger, of bitterness, of indignation, disappeared, to be replaced by a crushing sense of guilt. He had been moping and concerned with his own feelings for so long, that he had forgotten to extend the same courtesy to others. The man he had just seen dragging what seemed to be his dying wife on a sled, was silently struggling on. This man had it much worse than he did, and Donnovan had not seen any sign of defeat in his face, only an acceptance of what he was doing. Donnovan, meanwhile, had been considering ending everything due to his inability to understand humanity. He had selfishly thought he'd been through everythings. That man had been proof otherwise. Remembering the man's hands, Donnovan realized that the man must have dug the grave with the small, now useless hand shovel laying nearby. This man had buried his own family, a small child included.

"I... I haven't really realized how good I had it..." Donnovan spoke up, his voice cracking as he looked at the damaged teddy bear. "There's... So many things worse I could've gone through." He mumbled, his voice clearly betraying the fact that he was crying, slightly. He felt tears slide down his sweat and ash covered cheeks under his helmet. Morgan put her hand on his shoulder.

"You've been through a lot, we know." Morgan said, the hard edge to her voice disappearing. "We know that, and haven't forgotten. But keep in mind, Don. You don't have a monopoly on suffering."

Donnovan simply nodded slightly as a response. The three of them stood silently. Donnovan kneeling on the ground, sniffing slightly, Morgan's hand on his shoulder, Olin right behind her. Ash continued to fall on the forest around them, some of it reaching the grave mounds.


	24. Expected and Unexpected

**Part 24 – Expected and Unexpected**

Donnovan removed his helmet and ran his left hand across his eyes, wiping away the tears while simultaneously leaving ash streaks on his face. He shook his head, trying to set his mind to the situation at hand.

"Hey Morgan," He grunted, his voice leveling out as he glanced back at her.

"Yeah?" She answered, looking at him.

"If I ever start whining about my feelings again, please elbow me in the face." Donnvan stated. Morgan cracked a grin.

"With pleasure." She said, giving a faint smile. "You ready? We should head off soon."

"Yeah... Give me a minute." Donnovan nodded. Morgan began to walk towards the treeline, passing by Olin, who was kneeling on the ground, examining the abandoned remnants of the old man's camp. Donnovan pressed his fingers against his closed eyelids, lightly applying pressure before letting his fingertips run down the sides of his face. He straightened up and craned his neck back, looking up into the ash-filled sky.

"You might wanna put your helmet back on, Don." Morgan called from the edge of the clearing. "Come on, we've got to get going." Donnovan smiled, turning to look at her. His smile immediately disappeared.

"MORGAN, LOOK OUT!" He yelled. Morgan whirled around, the back of her hand accidentally clipping the barrel of the rifle belonging to a hulking figure behind her. The rifle tumbled off into the ash. The surprised owner immediately reached for a side arm. Morgan, with no time to pull her G3 off of her back, launched herself at the Midwestern Brotherhood soldier, both of them tumbling out of sight past the treeline. Donnovan and Olin sprinted towards the edge of the clearing, when a rush of movement to the right caused them to drop to the ground. A burst of laser fire flew over their heads fractions of a second after they had hit the ash-covered ground, causing it to swirl in the air and mix with the ash already falling from the trees. Acting as fast as he could, Donnovan scrambled to his feet, pulling Olin with him, and dove into the treeline as another burst of laser fire ripped through a charred tree trunk inches to his left, one of the lasers managing to clip part of his armor harmlessly.

"Dammit!" Olin cursed. "What's going on!"

"It's a fucking ambush." Donnovan grunted, donning his helmet.

"How many of them?" Olin asked, checking the charge on her laser pistol.

"No idea. Two, at least." Donnovan stated. A series of nearby clanging sounds caught his attention, and he peered through the gray-tinged forest, attempting to locate the source.

"Look out!" Olin yelled, a red flash emanating from her weapon. Donnovan turned in time to see a laser rifle go flying out of the hands of a charging Midwesterner. Surprised, he stumbled slightly, but managed to duck into the trees. It was mostly quiet again, save for the clanging sounds in the background that had to be coming from Morgan and whoever she was battling.

"Nice shot. Stay here." Donnovan commanded, straightening up, gripping his AK-47 tightly.

"Wait..." Olin hissed. "Don't go..."

"I got this." Donnovan said in a loud whisper and slowly trotted off in the direction where the Midwesterner had vanished. He made sure to stay just inside the treeline, keeping the clearing to his right so as not to get lost. His eyes narrowed behind the lenses of his power helmet, his ears attempting to catch sight of any sound that could give his target away. There was nothing. Just as he began to think he should turn around, from behind a tree came the blunt end of a sledgehammer. It connected heavily with his chest and sent him sprawling backwards, landing on his back, his AK-47 falling away.

Donnovan had just enough time to register the fact that he should have taken Olin's warning more seriously before the Midwesterner stepped towards him, turning the sledgehammer in his hand. Armor-piercing point facing forward, he swung downward. Despite being heavily winded, Donnovan rolled out of the way of the blow, the point of the hammer slamming heavily into the dirt. Using this delay, he kicked out at the Midwesterner's right shin, causing him to stumble. Donnovan climbed to his feet, his right hand unholstering his .44 magnum sidearm and aiming it forward. The Midwesterner recovered much faster than Donnovan had anticipated, however, and threw his shoulder into Donnovan, who felt the revolver slip from his fingers and he fell back yet again. He managed to stay upright as his back fell against a charred tree. Pushing himself off of the trunk, he sprinted forward at the Midwesterner, who was picking up the .44 and kicked out, his foot connecting with the armored stomach of his opponent, sending him onto his back. The attack also unbalanced Donnovan, who staggered slightly. He turned towards the Midwesterner, and had taken a step when his own .44 magnum roared in the hands of his enemy. The echo seemed to reverberate through the dead forest. A white-hot pain shot through Donnovan's arm from his left shoulder and he immediately felt his shoulder blade become warm and damp. The pain overpowering him, Donnovan fell backward, tumbling into the ash, clutching his left arm as he rolled back against a tree and slid awkwardly to the ground.

"Fuck... FUCK!" Donnovan screamed, a tinge of hysteria in his voice as he flailed violently due to the excruciating pain. The Midwesterner pulled himself to his feet and stepped forward, briefly examining Donnovan's .44 and giving it an approving nod. Despite the screaming nerves in his body, Donnovan managed to squint his eyes and focus on the Midwesterner that was about to end his life. Through the pain, he felt hope leave him. After all of this, after everything he had gone through, he'd never get to see the birthplace of the Brotherhood of Steel.

There was a sudden, quick whistle of metal against metal, and the Midwesterner suddenly gave a jerk. The hand holding the .44 went limp, dropping the revolver into the ash as a raspy rattle escaped the Midwesterner's power helmet. A small trickle of blood emanated from under his helmet and he fell to his knees, the armor-piercing point of his own sledgehammer embedded in the back of his neck, right below the metal helmet lining. With most of Donnovan's metal capacity being taken up by his injury, his eyes slowly followed the handle of the sledgehammer to find Morgan gripping it, breathing hard. She unceremoniously ripped the spike out of the Midwesterner and tossed the sledgehammer aside, the body of the slain soldier following the force and tumbling onto the ground.

"Shit..." Morgan coughed. She turned to the forest. "Olin, get over here, now!" She kneeled down next to Donnovan. "Breathe, breathe!"

"Raaaargh!" Donnovan screamed desperately. "God, that fucking hurts! Gahhh!" He thrashed on the ground as Olin appeared.

"Oh no..." She murmered, her eyes growing wide.

"If we move fast, he'll be alright." Morgan said. "Check around, do we have any Med-X?"

"Um..." Olin muttered, dropping her pack to the ground and frantically digging through it. "Where... where... Here!" Olin exclaimed, bringing up a plastic syringe in a light blue bag.

"Hold onto it." Morgan commanded. "Don, this is gonna hurt." She unclasped the bolts on his power armor.

"I-AAAAAARGH!" Donnvan screamed as Morgan wrenched open his power armor and slid it aside. "Fuuuuck!" Donnovan yelled with a slightly hysterical tone from the pain. Blood had seeped through the traveling clothes under his power armor, soaking the left side of his body.

"Here, cover me." Morgan grunted, taking the Med-X syringe from Olin.

"Huh?" Olin looked bewildered.

"I mean, lean over me." Morgan said, tearing off her helmet and tossing it aside. "Keep the ash from falling on the wound."

"Oh..." Olin leaned over Morgan, briefly providing cover from the falling ash. Morgan stripped off her power armor gloves and removed the Med-X from its plastic wrapper, popping off the plastic tip. She flicked the tip of the syringe before sticking it into a vein in Donnovan's lower arm and injecting the contents. Within seconds, Donnovan's twitching subsided and his body relaxed. His eyes opened and his head rolled back slightly.

"Okay... Okay..." Morgan muttered, running the back of her hand across her forehead. "You know first aid, right?"

A terrified look flashed across Olin's face.

"I only know the basics!" She stammered. "I can't fix something this bad! Yearling's the one we need!"

"I feel funny..." Donnovan stated somewhat lightheartedly.

"You can clean and dress a wound, right?" Morgan said, her eyes wide. Olin nodded nervously. "That's good enough. We have to get that bullet out. If we don't sterilize that wound and bandage it, it'll get infected. You remember Defender Foren?"

"Yeah." Olin stated, her face going slightly pale, but her breathing slowing down. "Okay, I'll need... something to cover him and the wound."

Wasting no time, Morgan ran off into the clearing, returning with the blue tarp and metal poles from the old man's makeshift tent. Within a minute, she had set up the tarp over the three of them. Digging into her pack, Olin came up with a small, white, plastic box. She snapped it open to reveal a compact first aid kit. She dug out a pair of tweezers and a small knife, then turned to Donnovan. Morgan lifted him up, carefully, keeping his wound from coming into contact with anything. Olin glanced at the wound for a moment, then closed her eyes.

"We don't have another choice." Morgan reassured her. Olin swallowed, opened her eyes, and nodded. Morgan carefully ripped away Donnovan's torn shirt to better reveal the bleeding wound on his shoulder. Olin leaned close, examining it.

"Missed the bones..." She stated, going over mental basic first aid checklist. "No exit wound." She gave a deep breath. "Okay, here we go..." Ever so carefully, she put the tweezers into the wound. Donnovan shuddered and gave a sharp grunt.

"Stay with it, Don." Morgan muttered, gripping his hand. It closed tightly around her fingers. Morgan winced from the pressure but didn't pull away, knowing that this was something Donnovan was doing to deal with the pain as Olin worked.

"It missed the bones..." Olin repeated. "But tore up his shoulder still. Probably messed up some nerves... That's why he was jerking around... and... There it is..." Olin's voice was shaky, but resolute.

"Okay, Don." Morgan turned to him. "You have to ignore the pain. This is going to help you... Okay?"

Donnovan nodded, his head rolling back and his eyes staring into the sky. They twitched slightly as Olin removed the offending bullet. The ugly process done, Olin dropped the bloody, misshaped, lead ball into one of her pockets, then set to work using the remaining supplies in her first aid kit on Donnovan's wound. She had just applied antibiotic ointment when Donnovan spoke up.

"Ya know?" He stated, his eyes glazing over, a lopsided grin on his face as he stared at the tops of the trees. "Molerat's sa funny word. Like... It's snot a mole... but it's snot a rat..."

"Are you sure that was Med-X that we gave him?" Morgan glanced at Olin.

"Yeah..." Olin acknowledged, wrapping a tan compression bandage around his wound. "It was a double dose though..." She added sheepishly.

"No wonder..." Morgan nodded. "He's feeling the euphoria..."

"Molerat." Donnovan continued with his haze-induced train of thought. "Mole... rat... Ratmole...?"

"Sure... Ratmole..." Morgan stated. "What do you think?" She added, glancing at Olin.

"Mat...role..."

"I don't know... We'll have to wait and see." Olin said, wringing her hands nervously.

"... Rolemat...?"

"Hey, you did everything well." Morgan told her. "Not like you could've done more..."

"I guess." Olin muttered, glancing at Donnovan, who was now giggling stupidly at the word "Rolemat", his mind overpowered by the side effects of the Med-X pumping through his body.

.

.

**Author's note: Being curious, I delved a bit deeper into the research on the guns in Fallout. Turns out they do have their own model and company names and the like. For example, the Chinese Assault Rifle is apparently a "Type 93". However, due to my obsession with guns, I simply cannot call what is essentially a shorter variant of the AK-47 (with some bits of the design being influenced by the AK-74) a "Type 93 Chinese Assault Rifle", just as I cannot call what is pretty much a G3, a "R91 Assault Rifle" (it's just known as the "Assault Rifle" in Fallout 3). I'm almost certain that these were the guns that the developers were hinting at, but couldn't use the actual names due to obvious reasons. I consider myself a huge Fallout fan, but regardless, I hope some of the more hardcore Fallout lovers that are reading this will forgive me for ignoring the in-game names of the rifles and using the real-world names instead.**


	25. Splintered Team and Fever Dream

**Part 25 – Splintered Team and Fever Dream**

Donnovan was standing in a vast, empty, white expanse. Nothingness stretched on forever in every direction. From somewhere in this vast, interminable white expanse, the sound of assault rifles, submachine-guns, and laser pistols could be heard firing. Despite the fact that there was nothing to see, the sounds somehow echoed. He looked down at himself. He was somehow dressed in the robes of a Brotherhood scribe. He dimly noted the strange change of attire as he turned, attempting to locate the gunfire. He came back around into his original position only to find Paladin Vargas standing in front of him, looking forward. He face was scarred.

"How are you, Donnovan?" He asked, his voice concerned.

"What... the hell's going on?" Donnovan tilted his head slightly, his eyebrow raised in bewilderment and surprise. "Wait, how are you still alive, Vargas?"

"I'm not." Vargas stated. With that, he reached up with left hand, his fingers gripping his right bicep and pulled. The entire arm came off, right below the shoulder.

"Gah!" Donnovan stumbled backwards in horror. "Dude, what the fuck?"

"Told you." Vargas smiled sadly, his left hand gripping his torn arm. Ruby red blood trickled heavily off of the muscle fibers and bone poking out from under the armor of his left shoulder. It ran down his plated chest and leg, slowly beginning to form a small puddle on the ground.

"If you're not dead…"

"Then we're in your head." Protector McGraw appeared, stepping out from behind Vargas. He was not only missing his right arm, but had two massive puncture wounds in his chest and stomach.

"Please don't do this to me…" Donnovan pleaded. "I'm just now starting to get over this."

"It's not us, hun." Lucy appeared from behind McGraw. A gaping wound was on her right side. The blood seeping from the wound had stained her traveling gear in a blackish red. "We're in your head Don, you should know this."

"Wait… So I'm talking to myself?" Donnovan looked at each one of them.

"Precisely." Star Paladin Cross appeared from behind Amata, her power armor punctured by many laser blasts, the edges of the entry wounds singed, slightly.

"What… what's this all about, then?"

"Christ, you really are a fucking moron, aren't you?" Ishmael appeared from behind Cross. Donnovan simply stared.

"You've been fighting with your own thoughts for a long time." Vargas stated. "In the back of your mind, you automatically began regretting not arguing more vehemently against going through Hellfire Crater."

"That was after Vargas and I died." McGraw added.

"You started wondering if you should have traveled in front of everyone else, ahead of me, when I got pegged by that sniper." Lucy said, brushing her wound slightly.

"You began to think that things would have turned out differently for me if you had not killed that Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel soldier." Cross tilted her head slightly, looking at Donnovan.

"Your mind tried ignoring the fact that these things happened and began looking for excuses." McGraw explained.

"Part of you wanted to accept it." Lucy explained.

"While the other half kept imagining how things would've turned out had you said one thing, or done another." Cross finished.

"Why the hell do you think I tried hammering the idea of revenge against the Midwesterners into your head?" Ishmael asked. "Whether you had a hand in them or not, you need to accept that what's happened, has happened. You can't go back and change it."

"Wait, I heard your voice after we got out, after you got shot. You're not dead… are you?" Donnovan protested.

"Think about the trauma your mind had suffered up to that point." Ishmael said. "Losing four friends, borderline Stockholm Syndrome… You really think I survived getting shot by one of those Midwestern assholes? They're very accurate, as can be seen from your woman, there. And the explosion? You just couldn't deal with someone else dying. The fact that I was from New Jerusalem made it worse."

"But what if I could-?" Donnovan began.

"No…" Cross shook her head, interrupting him. "Briefly thinking back to mistakes in order to learn from them is one thing, Donnovan."

"… but dwelling on them is completely fucking different." Ishmael added.

"So what do you think I should do?" Donnovan asked.

"It's not us, Don." Lucy reminded him, kindly. "It's you."

"Right…" Donnovan contorted his face, attempting to think clearly through the sheer eeriness of this experience. "So what… do I think… I should do?" The question seemed stupid, even to him.

"Learn." McGraw told him.

"But let go." Vargas stated. "It will not do any good for the rest of the expedition to brood over these things."

"How have I not realized this before?" Donnovan asked.

"You knew it all along." McGraw answered. "But discomfort and guilt, whether justified or not, is very powerful. It overpowered common sense."

It was completely silent for several moments as Donnovan attempted to organize his thoughts.

"Well this has been a weird conversation. I don't think I've ever had a conversation with-" Donnovan stopped short, distracted. A molerat, making its squishing breathing noises, went running by behind the five people looking at Donnovan. They acted as if they hadn't heard anything at all. Donnovan's eyes followed the molerat as it ran from right to left, and went. It shuffled on, moving as fast as it could, its back legs and tail swaying in the trademark molerat fashion. Donnovan kept looking at it in confusion as it grew smaller and smaller in the distance, heading nowhere.

"Uh…" Donnovan looked back at the group. All of them wore completely blank expressions. "Anyway… This is the first time I've had a conversation with myself, I think. I'm not quite sure... Okay, god dammit." Donnovan cursed, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. "What the hell's with the molerat? I dreamt of one back in the cell."

"It's probably got nothing to do with the Med-X and blood loss, you fucking junkie." Ishmael smiled.

"But why molerats?" Donnovan persisted, putting his hand to the side of his head.

The group all exchanged glances and shrugs.

"Great…" Donnovan muttered. Suddenly, the empty world around him began to fade. A deep grey began to creep from his feet and extend over the ground. White flakes slowly began to drift down from nowhere as the faded grey crept vertically. The forms of Vargas, McGraw, Lucy, Cross, and Ishmael slowly changed into a charred black and began to wither away.

…..

Donnovan took a massive breath, and immediately wished he hadn't. His lungs inhaled a foul, rough batch of air, and he immediately went into a coughing fit. This, in turn, caused a shooting pain to flare through his arm.

"Holy shiiiiit!" Donnovan grunted loudly. His very skin between his collar bone and shoulder felt stretched excruciatingly, painfully tightly. The feeling was so strong that it was making him wince, his eye shut tightly.

"Don!" Olin's voice gasped. Donnovan opened his eyes to find himself staring at a blue tarp. "Morgan, MORGAN!" Olin called, her voice low.

"Huh, what?" Morgan's voice sounded distracted.

"He's awake!"

"What?" Morgan exclaimed. Within seconds, Morgan and Olin's faced appeared, looking down at Donnovan.

"You're awake." Olin stated, wide-eyed.

"Uh… Yeah." Donnovan stated. "Please don't look at me like you expected me to be dead."

"Well…" Olin glanced at Morgan. "We didn't fully expect you to wake up, at least."

"You lost quite a bit of blood. We didn't think that one measly blood pack did anything." Morgan said, helping Donnovan to his feet and holding him steady.

"Well… I feel dizzy…" Donnovan admitted.

"That's your body recovering from the lack of blood and getting rid of the Med-X." Olin said. "It was a strong dose."

"Please don't give me one like that again… I already have random dreams with molerats in them." Donnovan grunted. "I don't need those little bastards to be more vivid than they already are." Morgan shot Olin a look.

"What's with you and molerats?" Morgan asked.

"I've been wondering that myself." Donnovan shook his head.

"Or was it rolemat?" Olin offered with a grin.

"Huh?" Donnovan looked at her while Morgan stifled a laugh.

"Never mind." Morgan stated. "Now that you're up, I don't have to carry your useless weight anymore."

"You were carrying me?" Donnovan asked, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Damn right, and don't forget it." Morgan grinned. "We'll still carry your gear."

"No…" Donnovan felt his face going red. "You don't have to."

"Yeah, actually, we do. And your AK." Olin interjected.

"But…!" Donnovan protested.

"No arguments." Olin cut him off. "Your shoulder's in no condition to bear any weight, or even move. I managed to sew the wound shut as best I could, but it's not very good."

"Shit…" Donnovan examined his useless arm.

"Yeah." Olin agreed. "It's not the best work, but it'll have to do until we can get Yearling to look at it."

"So until then, use the gun that almost killed you." Morgan smiled slyly, holding out Donnovan's .44 magnum.

"Great…" Donnovan stated, his voice thick with sarcasm as his good arm took the revolver. "Seems even near-death experiences have a sense of irony."

"Sense of irony?" Morgan cocked an eyebrow. "That's the very definition, of irony, Don. But who cares, irony's all that keeps life interesting for us jaded warriors."

"Keep your irony." Olin stated as she began to pack of some of the camping supplies around them. "I'll stick with computers. Far more straightforward than a person."

"How long have I been out?" Donnovan asked suddenly, looking at the forest around him as Morgan slowly hooked his power armor back over his body, taking extra care around the region of his wound.

"About fourteen hours…?" Morgan looked over at Olin.

"About that, yeah." Olin nodded.

"Damn… How far are the others?" Donnovan wondered.

"We're not exactly sure." Morgan admitted. "We should just try to get out of the forest for now."

"Fucking arm…" Donnovan sighed as Morgan put his power helmet on for him. "How long am I going to have to deal with this?"

"How long are you going to be whining?" Morgan asked her own question, lightly rapping Donnovan's helmet with her knuckles. "Just be happy that you're alive, huh? You can still fire that .44 if you really have to… Though I hope you won't."

"Right… Sorry." Donnovan said sheepishly.

"I think we're all packed up." Olin said, walking up to Morgan and Donnovan.

"Which way?" Donnovan asked as he looked around the forest, slightly bewildered.

"Southwest." Olin answered simply. She briefly examined her compass, the tool that was formerly McGraw's, before she pointed them in the right direction.

"We should move as fast as we can." Morgan stated. "We really need to put some distance between us and these Midwesterners. The body count on both sides is piling up."

With that realization, the trio set off, Olin leading the way through the ash-choked forest.


	26. Beyond the Dead Forest

Part 26 – Beyond the Dead Forest

Olin kept the trio traveling in a mostly straight direction. More than once, they had to skirt around the edges of a massive fallen tree or a small hole in the forest floor. Other than the sight of a charred human skeleton, they did not run across anything of note. Donnovan was bringing up the rear. The fingers on his right hand pointlessly gripped the armor over the left side of his chest. Almost subconsciously, it seemed, his hand wanted the horrid discomfort of what felt like burning, stretched skin to subside. The revolver that had caused the wound sat snugly in his holster. They had been walking for several hours, when Olin finally pointed at the treeline ahead of them, where streaks of sunlight could be seen.

"There!" She exclaimed happily.

"Why isn't the sun coming through into the trees?" Donnovan wondered, staring up at the gray skies above.

"The ash and smog must be too thick." Morgan noted.

"Who cares? We're almost out of this forest." Olin stated.

With freedom in sight, the trio picked up their pace, heading straight towards the treeline.

Sunlight... Gorgeous, bright, wasteland sunlight shined down on Olin, Morgan, and Donnovan as they cleared the forest and walked forward onto hard-packed and sun-baked dirt. Donnovan tore his helmet off of his face, letting the bright sun shine down. Never had he thought he'd notice the warmth of the sun on his face after spending so much time in the concentrated heat of the Capital Wastes. As he wiped his face, along with sweat came a thick streak of ash on his finger.

"Uh... I really need to clean up." Donnovan muttered.

"You?" Olin interjected indignantly. "At least you and Morgan have power armor. I've just got my traveling gear! I've practically become one with the ash."

"I wouldn't mind, either." Morgan admitted while Donnovan gave a short, appreciative laugh at Olin's comment. "Any place nearby we can stop for a while in?"

"Hopefully something closed off." Donnovan said as he scanned the area. "Those Midwesterners are still going to be looking for us."

The terrain here reminded him significantly of the Capital Wasteland. Rock formations jutted haphazardly out of the dirt, fragmented cement highways stretched on in different directions, and bombed-out shells of houses sat creaking along the roads. Eventually, their eyes settled on a cluster of what looked to be mostly intact houses.

"There." Olin pointed. "What do you think?"

"Might as well take a look." Donnovan shrugged.

"Alright." Morgan stated, checking the bolt on her G3. "I'll take point."

Morgan led them down the street. The cracked pavement beneath their was feet a welcome change from the ash-covered forest floor. They took in the cookie-cutter houses as they made their way up the street, randomly choosing one of the homes. Morgan approached the house first, leading them up the walkway to the door. She glanced back at Donnovan and Olin before focusing on the door handle.

"There could be traps." Donnovan hissed. Morgan waved him down. Her hand reached out, gripping the door handle, and attempted to force the door open. The door shifted a fraction of an inch.

"Damn, locked." Morgan glanced at Donnovan expectantly.

"I've only got one friggin' hand, Morgan..." Donnovan told her, a note of annoyance in his voice. "What about your blowtorch, Olin?"

"On a wooden door?" Olin asked, looking at Donnovan with an expression of slight disbelief.

"Oh yeah..." Donnovan realized his mistake. "Couldn't we-

*CRACK*

The door swung open, and Morgan moved in, sweeping her G3 right and left, scanning the room.

"Clear." She called, moving forward through the house. Donnovan and Olin stood rooted in place, staring into the house. They glanced at each other, completely at a loss for words or actions until Morgan's voice carried through the house. "It's all clear..." Morgan walked around back into view. "Why are you two still on the porch?" With one more glance at each other, Donnovan and Olin entered the house, closing the door behind them. Morgan had kicked the deadbolt through the wood while managing to leave the latch of the door handle intact.

They found themselves in a large living room area. Two couches were arrange in front of a television set on a wooden entertainment center. A small chandelier hung from the ceiling, the light bulbs long burnt out. A brown rug was laid out on the floor and a very thin layer of dust covered everything in the house.

"Um..." Donnovan muttered, looking around the room as he brushed off one of the couches and sat down on it. "This seems a bit too good to be true, in my opinion."

"Why?" Olin asked. "We've been through so much, that this kind of a welcome change."

"Hey!" Morgan suddenly called from one of the side rooms. "There's a few gallons of water here! It's purified! Looks like the owner of this house was preparing for Armageddon."

"See?" Donnovan shuddered. "That's just too easy."

"Don, for once, just shut up." Olin shook her head.

"We have more than enough water for all of us to use." Morgan said as she walked into the living room. Donnovan looked up, and she tossed him a tin can, followed by a can opener.

"Pork and Beans?" Donnovan read the label. "Morgan, please tell me I'm not the only one who's freaked out by how well this is all going?"

"Sorry, but you are. Just relax, Don. We've all been through a lot." Morgan sat herself on the couch opposite Donnovan with her own open can of food. They both ate in silence for several minutes before Olin came back into the living room.

"Bedrooms are just down there." She pointed down the hallway. "Bathroom's right here." She indicated a door several feet away from the television. "No running water, but there's a stack of towels and washcloths."

"Don, you first." Morgan stated, not looking up from her food. With no point discussing the issue further, Donnovan stood up. After retrieving a gallon jug of water from the kitchen and getting Morgan to help him with his power armor, he shut himself in the bathroom. He managed to pick out a dust-free washcloth from the center of a stack and get all of his clothes off without aggravating his wound. He made full use of the washcloth and water, cleaning himself off of the ash, blood, sweat, and gunpowder that had accrued since he had left New Jerusalem. He was carefully cleaning the edges around his shabby stitches, when he caught sight of himself in the cracked mirror above the sink. He had changed significantly from his time in the Capital Wasteland. Though he had sustained a fair share of scars from fighting super mutants in downtown D.C., they usually were minor and he always had a positive attitude about them. What he saw now was an exhausted young man staring back at him. His face showed no signs of positivity or hope, just a blank, almost listless expression. The large, stitched wound between his left shoulder and pectoral muscle stood out. A large cut ran down the right side of his face from when the Midwesterners had taken a sledgehammer to his power armored head. Though he had gotten over his somewhat selfish emotional issues, this entire journey had still taken a toll on him. How much of one, he didn't realize until he saw himself in the mirror.

With a great deal of effort, he pulled himself away from the mirror and finished cleaning himself up. Not knowing what to do with it, he tossed the now dirty washcloth into a nearby wastebasket before putting on his boots and pants and walking out of the bathroom.

"Still half a gallon in there." Donnovan announced. He had barely sat back down on the couch when Olin spoke up.

"Morgan, go. I need to put a new bandage on, anyway."

"You'll get no complaints from me." Morgan grunted as she pushed herself off of the couch and occupied the bathroom. Olin worked quickly, trying to replace Donnovan's bandage with the aid of the light of the sun coming in through the windows. The sun had mostly set by the time she finished cleaning and dressing Donnovan's wound. Soon after, Morgan came out of the bathroom.

"All yours, Olin." She said. "Feels good to get that feeling of ash off." Morgan shuddered slightly as she sat back down on the vacant couch. The last daylight began to flicker away outside as Olin hung her scribe robe on a nearby coat rack, then locked herself in the bathroom.

"How's the gunshot?" Morgan asked.

"Dunno." Donnovan admitted. "Feels like the skin hurts a lot more, though."

"Well of course, the Med-X wore off completely." Morgan pointed out.

Donnovan had a sudden realization and clambered off of the couch and over to his bag. Digging around, he brought up a syringe.

"I knew I had one more." He stated excitedly.

"You sure that's a good idea?" Morgan asked, her eyes on the needle point.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Donnovan wondered.

"Risk of addiction..." Morgan shrugged.

"I can barely think with how sharp the pain is, Morgan." Donnovan explained. Slowly, he stuck the needle into his vein, and injected the contents. Almost immediately, he felt slightly lightheaded and his wound became a simple bump on his body, the discomfort of his sewn skin disappearing. "Whoa!" Donnovan muttered, staring at the ceiling as Olin stepped out of the bathroom in her underwear, reaching for her scribe robe hanging nearby.

"I'm telling you, be careful with Med-X." Morgan's eye narrowed. "It's mainly made up of morphine. All that-" Morgan stopped short, her eyes suddenly going wide. She reached for her G3, which was propped up against the couch, but it was too late. The door to the house flew open and several hulking figures in power armor entered, weapons raised.

"On the ground, now!" One booming voice commanded as the soldiers filed in. There was thud as Olin knocked over the coat hanger in surprise. Donnovan remained on the couch, the Med-X dulling his senses as the figures approached. One grabbed Morgan by the shoulder and forced her to the floor.

"You! DOWN!" A female voice commanded. Breaking out of his trance, Donnovan dropped to his knees off of the couch and put his right hand behind his head.

"Left hand too!" The figure commanded, aiming the barrel of a sniper rifle at him.

"I can't." Donnovan grunted through the Med-X haze. "Injury."

"Get your hands on your head," A second voice commanded. Donnovan looked up, several feet in front of him at the soldier who had remained in the doorway. He was armed with a vicious-looking minigun. Along the base, the words "Eugene" were carved into it.

"Wait..." Donnovan had a moment of clarity. "Glade?"

The figure in the doorway froze.

"What... What the hell?" Glade glanced at the female soldier holding the sniper rifle. She looked closer.

"Donnovan!" Dusk's surprised voice exclaimed.

**Author's note: I apologize if this seems rushed. I have contacted a fellow Fallout writer, and we have hatched a rather exciting idea. It also made me realize how I should have been updating this story a lot more often. I now have it planned out until to the end, and will do my best to post a chapter a day to finally end it. However, with excitement of the upcoming idea and the subsequent faster writing, I sometimes tend to overlook basic grammar and spelling mistakes. I'd like to ask a favor of my readers and reviewers. If you notice those mistakes, please make a note of them in any review you write. I'd greatly appreciate it, as it well help the story stay streamlined. I'd like to specifically thank two reviewers who have been watching my spelling, grammar, and story progression throughout this tale: BeGodlyBeLynn and Kingoftheplankton. You two have helped me watch my typos and encouraged me to write more, and I thank you for it. I would have missed many of those typos if you guys hadn't mentioned them. This made me re-read the chapters thoroughly and make the necessary corrections. Again, I'd like to thank all of you who've been reading and reviewing this story. The end of this tale is in sight. The characters, however, might not be disappearing so soon. :)**


	27. Exfil

**Part 27 - Exfil**

After narrowly avoiding killing their own fellows, the expedition set up inside of the house. They had herded the Brahmin and robots into the empty garage and sat down in the living room. Everyone was accounted for.

"So Ishmael didn't make it, huh?" Dusk asked.

"Nope. Took a bullet to the chest." Donnovan explained while Yearling worked on his wound, changing the stitches. The Med-X definitely helped dull the excruciating pain.

As everyone had lived through their confrontations with the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel, they were now filling each other in on what each of their groups had been up to.

"Damn. He was useful." Glade cursed. "Helped us set up camp in a mostly hidden area. We only ran into two of those Midwesterners."

"Ran in to?" Morgan asked.

"Well, killed them." Glade explained.

"Shit..." Donnovan grunted. "We took out two that found us on the way here."

"Plus one more back in their base when we broke you out." Morgan added.

"So that's three when this started, two in the battle after, two by us, and three by you guys?" Dusk stated, counting on her fingers. "So we've killed ten of their guys?"

"They will not let this go so easily." Morrill stated.

"We've lost people, too, Morrill." Yearling joined in, briefly turning her attention away from Donnovan's wound.

"Yes, but you have to understand that they look at it from a different point of view than we do." Morrill mused. "With every one of their number that we kill, they become more determined to catch us, seeing those as further criminal acts against them. In turn, they send more soldiers after us."

"And we kill the soldiers they send after us, so the body count keeps rising." Lyons put her head in her hands.

"And the whole cycle just repeats." Rockfowl chimed in.

"We need to get out of their territory, fast." Morgan stated. "As in, at first light tomorrow. The longer we stay in it, the more ground they'll cover while looking for us."

"Are we all in agreement then?" Morrill stood up. "First light, tomorrow?" Everyone nodded in agreement. "Good, we shouldn't be nervous. We know they're hunting us with great resolve, but that is why we're moving out so early." Morrill said as he walked out of the room.

"Because that statement's not going to make us nervous." Dusk said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

…..

At first light of the next morning, the expedition quickly packed up and moved out. One night in relative comfort had refreshed them, and they traveled at a moderately rapid pace, wanting to leave Midwestern Brotherhood territory as quickly as they could. For Donnovan, it was already a slight blessing to put the forest of ash further behind him. The roads, though cracked and frayed, were still solid, and the group made use of the old, pre-war highways, traveling further west. After a full day of travel, a cluster of buildings came into view through the rocky formations. As the expedition cautiously approached it, they saw the figures of people scattering into buildings. By the time they reached the entrance, only one man stood outside in the street. Windows and shutters of the buildings in town were closed. Every so often, a face could be seen peering through.

"What do you want?" The man in the street called out to them. He was skinny with a small but thick brown beard. His eyes showed utter fear as he stared at the members of the expedition. "We have already given you our dues. Please, there's no need to punish us. We beg you!"

"What is your name?" Morrill stepped forward. The man shuddered slightly as he did so, but answered him nevertheless.

"Frederick... How... why are you asking? Don't you already know?" Frederick whimpered.

"Wait, hey." Dusk stepped forward, and the man took a step backwards in fear. "No, no, no. We're not with them."

"You are Brotherhood?" Frederick asked, a tone of confusion in his voice.

"We are... But we're not with them." Dusk answered. "We come from the East Coast."

"I don't understand." Frederick stated, looking at each one of them.

"These Brotherhood, or "Midwesterners" as we've taken to calling them, are not part of the true Brotherhood of Steel." Morrill explained.

"Well, technically, neither are we..." Donnovan whispered into Glade's ear.

"Shut up, he doesn't need to know that." Glade hissed. Donnovan, realizing the mistake he could have made, fell silent.

"The Brotherhood," Morrill continued, "while not necessarily friendly to tribals and wastelanders, are not necessarily overly hostile, either."

"Tell that to your friends." Frederick said, looking at Morrill's power armored form with trepidation. "We're terrified they'll sweep through here, finding any excuse to hurt us. There are barely more than several dozen of us left."

"Several dozen?" Dusk repeated, looking around. "But there are enough structures here to house far more than that."

"Only one third of our population still remains." Frederick said. "The Brotherhood butchered the rest when we tried to make a stand for our rights. Many fled into that forest..." He pointed. "None came out."

Donnovan, Morgan, and Olin all briefly thought back to the old man pulling the sled.

"I see." Morrill said, looking around for himself.

"Well, if you were Brotherhood..." Frederick began.

"We are." Morrill stated with a tone of finality.

"Sorry. Well, if you were... _Them_... You probably would have done something by now. So who are you?"

"As of right now, we are only travelers." Morrill explained. "And we are in a hurry."

"Did you piss off the Br- the... what did you call them? Midwesterners?" Frederick asked, looking at each member of the expedition.

"You might say that." Dusk muttered.

"We have clashed with them on more than one occasion." Morrill stated. "How often do they come here?"

"Every few weeks." Frederick said. "They just did about three days ago."

"Well, that means they've come and gone looking for us, no doubt." Morrill nodded. "Frederick. Would we be able to make a deal?"

"What... sort of deal?" Frederick's eyes widened in caution.

"We have plenty of spare food." Morrill stated. "We will give you a significant amount if you allow us to stay in one of the empty houses here."

It took almost no time.

"You have food? Say no more." Frederick stated. "We've been rationing the past few months and barely scraping by. A lot of our farmers died in the raid."

"We would prefer a building on the far edge of town." Morrill suggested, patting one of the packs on a nearby Brahmin. "As far west as you can get us."

"Of course... Come with me." Frederick stated. As he led the expedition through the town, Frederick pointed out houses that were abandoned. Many had broken windows or doors smashed off of their hinges. In silence, Frederick led them to what looked like an old, pre-war two-story house on a small hill. It's wood siding was old and cracked, with a rickety door and thick windows, one of which was broken.

"This used to belong to the mayor... He and his whole family were killed when we were raided." Frederick explained, his voice shaky. "Lined them up against the wall in the basement and gunned them down. Wife and four kids along with him."

"It will do, thank you." Morrill stated.

"You... uh..." Frederick glanced nervously at a pack brahmin. "Said something about food?"

"Of course." Morrill stated. "A deal is a deal." He walked over to a nearby brahmin and checked several of it's bags. He unhooked two particular ones, and handed them to Frederick. "Should be canned beans and Cram. I hope that will suffice."

"Of course. This is excellent." Frederick smiled sadly. "We will be able to fill our stomachs for the first time in months." Frederick turned and began to walk towards the populated end of the village with the bags of food. The crowd that had gathered there began to whisper excitedly. Frederick glanced back as he walked. This look, however, was not one of fear, but one of appreciation, with a soft smile on his lips. As he joined the tiny crowd, they all began to smile excitedly. Frederick put one of the bags down and cracked it open to show the contents. A little girl leaned out from the crowd and waved at the expedition, grinning broadly. Morrill waved back.

"Okay, now I agree with you." Morgan stated as she and Donnovan led the way, opening the door of the house. It was admittedly rather nice.

"About what?" Donnovan asked, gripping his arm and wincing. The fresh injection of Med-X was starting to wear off again, and the pain was returning.

"Our luck." Morgan said, examining the entry hall they were standing in. "We stayed one night in complete comfort without being interrupted... Well, mostly. I think a second night like this, while still in Midwestern territory, is kind of pushing our luck."

"I know, right?" Donnovan agreed.

"I wouldn't mind another night." Rockfowl stated, walking up behind them to also examine the house. "We'll need as much rest as we can get. From what I remember, there might not be many comforts like these for miles."

"Says you." Donnovan said, walking back over to the rest of the expedition. He counted the brahmin and robots, and had a sudden realization that their Mr. Gutsy was missing. "Wait... Where's Ronnie?"

"Dunno." Glade grunted as he passed by, pulling the brahmin towards the front of the house where several posts stood.

"You don't know?" Donnovan stated incredulously.

"He got clipped by one of those Midwestern assholes' laser rifles." Glade explained without turning around, busying himself with tying the brahmin to the posts. "Knocked out his combat inhibitor and some circuitry probably, too. He floated off into the forest screaming something about Commies and Uncle Sam."

Several seconds of silence later, Donnovan went to help the rest of his companions move their gear.

…...

Night had fallen, and Donnovan Edan sat on the front porch of the expedition's temporary lodging. Not being able to sleep, he had joined Knight Captain Dusk, who was sitting next to him, for guard duty. Their main task was to make sure none of the locals decided to repossess their vital pack brahmin while they rested. A cigarette hung loosely from Donnovan's lips as he stared off into the direction from which they had entered the town. The moon hung in the dark sky as he and Dusk talked about their respective experiences during the expedition's brief split.

"So after all that, he ended up taking a bullet?" Dusk was asking about Ishmael.

"Yep... Just like that." Donnovan snapped his middle finger and thumb together, still staring into the distance.

"I wonder when they'll find out back in New Jerusalem?" Dusk wondered. Donnovan turned to her, exhaling smoke from his lungs.

"Shit, hadn't thought of that." He admitted, leaning forward, crossing his arms across his legs. "I'll have to send a letter with a courier or something."

"You can probably find one here." Dusk suggested.

"Uh." Donnovan glanced back at the village. "I don't think they're in any shape to send messages. They've got more on their minds."

"When then?" Dusk asked. "New Jerusalem will probably want to find out as soon as possible."

"Not sure." Donnovan popped his neck. "Next organized settlement after this, I guess. Either way, I'll-" He froze, staring at the entrance to the town.

"What?" Dusk asked. "Don, what's-" She followed his gaze. "Oh shit..."

In the dim lights of the town, they could make out several hulking figures standing at the entrance, speaking to some of the townsfolk.

"That's not good." Donnovan stated as he and Dusk stood up.

"We have to go..." Dusk said. Donnovan stared on as one of the heavy figures kicked one of the townsfolk to the ground, then raised his rifle. A crack echoed through the streets, lasting for several reverberations as the figure on the ground's movements ended abruptly. A scream pierced the night, silenced by a second gunshot. "Don, NOW!" Dusk insisted, gripping his arm. Donnovan finally allowed himself to be moved and the two of them ran into the house.

"Everyone up, now!" Donnovan called.

"Get up, get up!" Dusk yelled.

"Whoa, what?" Glade sprang up off of a nearby couch.

"Pack your shit, let's go!" Donnovan tossed him his bag.

"Whatzgoingon?" Amata stumbled sleepily out of a side room.

"They're fucking here! The Midwesterners!" Donnovan yelled. Morril came trotting out of a side room, his power armor already on, helmet in his hands. Yet again, Donnovan was dumbfounded at how easily the expedition's leader managed to get his gear on so fast.

"What, how'd they find us?" Sarah yelled, leaping down the stairs three at a time and stopping at the base.

"Maybe they tracked us." Dusk suggested. "Maybe it's just another raid of the townsfolk. Who cares? They know who we are, and we have to go."

"You heard them, let's move. We have to evacuate." Morrill called. An explosion could be heard in the distance, and several more distant screams followed. Donnovan tore back out the front door to the porch. He gripped the porch railing as he took another look at the village. Several houses had been set on fire, lighting up the entire village. Donnovan watched as a power armored figured kicked in the door to a small, one-room cottage and leveled a now familiar rapid fire laser rifle at his waist. Red beams flashed rapidly from the barrel as he swept the weapon left and right in the house.

"Fucking hell." Donnovan cursed as he watched the scene unfold. Amata, Rockfowl, and Yearling ran out past the porch behind him and began to untie the pack brahmin and what few robots they had left.

"Can someone tell me why we removed the weapons from these sentry bots?" Yearling exclaimed in frustration as one of the unhooked robots wheeled forward and stopped several feet away, facing them. The rest of the expedition filed out of the house and Morrill turned, counting heads.

"We couldn't overburden the brahmin with all of our gear, so we used the sentry bots that weren't doing anything in the Citadel. They couldn't exactly carry all that if they had a missile launcher, could they?" Dusk answered.

"It would've made this shit easier, though." Glade grunted, agreeing with Yearilng, as he carried the last pack of gear they had taken into the house and hooked it onto the robot in question. He had already donned his power armor as well. "Shit, my power first!" Glade turned and sprinted back into the house

"Go, go, come on!" Dusk waved her arm. "They're making their way this direction!" Another gunshot tore through the night air, this one significantly closer.

"Everyone and everything is accounted for." Morrill announced as the rest of the expedition stepped off of the porch and gathered in the yard. "I believe we are free to-"

"Found you! Freeze!" A voice crackled behind them. In all of the confusion, a Midwesterner had apparently come up the hill to investigate all of the movement at the mansion. He had made his way up the side of the house, and now stood, aiming a plasma rifle at them. Before anyone could react, the window to the Midwesterner's right exploded in a shower of glass as Glade threw himself onto the man, and they tumbled to the ground. The Midwesterner's rifle clattered away as he attempted to climb to his feet. Glade wound up and delivered a massive uppercut to the soldier's head, sending his power armor helmet flying off, bouncing lightly off of the wall of the house as he fell to the ground heavily. Glade immediately was on top of him, both legs on either side of his shoulders. He gripped the dip at the neck in the soldier's power armor, then drew his power fist back, and delivered a crushing blow to the Midwesterner's face. His head could be heard hitting the dirt, hard. Glade tilted the man up with his left again, and delivered another blow with his right, sending speckles of blood onto the dirt as man's nose was crushed. Glade repeated the process a third time, and Donnovan swore he could actually hear the man's skull crack. Finally, Glade added one more power-fisted punch to the man's face and loosened his grip on the soldier's armor, letting his head and shoulders hit the dirt. His face was now an unrecognizable mess of blood and broken bone.

"No gunshots." Glade grunted as he trotted over to the expedition, as several members stared on at the dead Midwesterner.

"I think that would be our cue." Morrill turned to the rest of the expedition. No one seemed to argue, and the group quickly began to make their way west, out of the village.

Donnovan lingered for a moment, watching as the soldiers swept through the town, slaughtering the residents and dragging bags and boxes out of the houses.

"Don, come on." Dusk pulled him on, and they joined the tail-end of the expedition, now moving rather quickly. "How did you see that, I wonder?" Dusk asked.

"See what?"

"The soldiers at the town entrance." Dusk explained.

"Oh... I dunno. I just could make out movement, I guess." Donnovan shrugged, his mind preoccupied with the slaughter of the village receding into the distance behind them.

"Did you ever try to be a sniper?" Dusk asked.

"Huh?" Donnovan looked at her, the questions jarring him out of his thoughts. "No... not really."

"Well I figure, you've always just been kind of a grunt fighter." Dusk explained. "No offense intended. I mean you're just a regular power-armor-and-gun kind of guy. I remember you barely passed power armor training."

"Hey," Donnovan tilted his head slightly, annoyed. "Come on, now."

"I'm not insulting you." Dusk quickly waved the idea away. "What I'm saying is that I think sniping might be more up your alley. You're a pretty damn good shot from what I've seen, and you notice things pretty well."

"I guess." Donnovan shrugged.

"Remind me of this when we stop for a break, alright?" Dusk huffed. "I have an idea, but I don't wanna explain it while we're jogging."

.

.

**Author's note: I have another specific person to thank in addition to BeGodlyBeLynn and Kingoftheplankton. Kage of the village hidden in the Blood, thanks for pointing out that ammunition discrepancy. I had been changing the weapons choice around so much in the first chapter when I was first writing it, that I forgot to check what ammo I had the character's firing. ****Thank you, immensely. :)**


	28. Catching Up

**Part 28 – Catching Up**

For a full week, Morrill kept the expedition moving with short rests and long days of travel. He enforced a strict no talking code, only allowing whispers. It seemed that the last confrontation with the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel had finally settled a conflict in his mind. The rest of the expedition, though grumbling amongst themselves, understood Morrill's reasoning. The more distance the expedition put between themselves and the Midwestern Brotherhood, the happier they all would be. The ground beneath them was mainly hard-packed dirt and paved roads. Rock formations started becoming more common. Every so often a cluster of houses could be seen, but the expedition ignored them, not wanting a repeat of the village they had left.

The changing scenery was welcomed by the members of the expedition. The only person who was bothered was Amata. She had started becoming increasingly paranoid since the expedition had left New Jerusalem. Now, she could barely keep still. Her eyes began to dart everywhere, any time the expedition stopped, as if expecting an ambush. She couldn't sleep until she was absolutely sure that someone would be on watch. While the expedition was moving, she'd taken to nervously wringing her hands as she traveled. Though Donnovan wasn't surprised that she was very shaken when the expedition had found her in Hellfire Crater, how far her anxiety would go was unexpected.

Donnovan himself was also bothered, but not to Amata's extent. He had been extremely curious as to what Dusk had hinted at. This was for two reasons. First, he had always wanted to try using a sniper rifle, but for some reason had not gotten around to firing more than a few rounds out of one. Also, any activity such as this usually took his mind off of things, and right now, his thoughts were with the village from which the expedition had fled. The Midwesterners looked like they were cleaning up from the first raid that sent refugees into the forest, and created that nightmare that his group had traveled through for days. When they finally stopped for the night after seven days of travel, Morrill's restriction was finally lifted.

"I believe, or rather am hopeful, that we have left Midwestern Brotherhood territory far behind us." He stated. He pulled out the same map he had been using to mark their progress since the beginning of the journey. Yearling came up behind him, examining the map quietly over his shoulder. "Though our detour has definitely confused me slightly, I believe we should be at about 37 degrees North, 92 degrees West?" He turned his head to Yearling, who nodded. Donnovan, can you double-check for me, please?""

"Uh..." Donnovan paused from helping Rockfowl set up a tent. He brought up his Pipboy and opened the G.P.S. option. "Wait... It says here that we're at about 11 degrees North, 142 degrees East..." He looked up to find Morrill staring at him blankly, while Yearling wore an expression of confusion mixed with amusement. She took the unfurled map from Morrill and flipped it over to the back, where a map of the world was printed. After several seconds, she looked up, barely succeeding in holding back her laughter.

"So then, according to you, we're in the Mariana Trench?" Yearling stated, her voice shaking as he tried hard to keep a straight face. "Let's go find some plankton to eat, then." Donnovan blinked.

"Uh, right." He muttered, looking back at the screen of his Pipboy. "Hang on... Let me..."

"Your Pipboy maps elevations and all that automatically, right?" Yearling asked.

"Yeah." Donnovan looked up.

"Well, then just figure out where we are by cross-referencing elevations and features with that map of the pre-War U.S. you've been using." Yearling offered. Donnovan scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Didn't think of that." Donnovan said. "I haven't really been checking coordinates."

"I can see that." Yearling nodded. "Otherwise you would have figured out that most of the Robco Sattelites stopped working about 50 years ago. The last transmissions they gave out were of the last place someone looked up on the shared satellite network."

"Well fuck." Donnovan grinned sheepishly. "Sorry." He busied himself with his Pipboy, doing exactly as Yearling suggested. Dusk had walked up to him meanwhile.

"Well, now that we can actually talk and shoot, do you wanna hear what I've been thinking about?" Dusk asked. "While there's still some light?"

"Yeah..." Donnovan murmured slowly. "Hold up... Got it." He turned his head toward Yearling. "Hey! We're closer to 94 degrees West. The latitude's right." Yearling gave a thumbs up as Morrill marked the place on their map, both of them discussing the trek. Donnovan turned back towards Dusk. "Sorry, what?"

"Come on, I want you to try something." Dusk stated. "Bring your binoculars."

Donnovan quickly retrieved them from his pack, and Dusk motioned for him to follow. He fell into step next to her as they walked from the camp, Amata nervously watching their every step.

"Did the satellites really just get stuck on the last coordinates that were sent to them?" Donnovan asked Dusk as they walked, their feet crunching over the hard-packed dirt.

"Yeah." Dusk answered. "Yearling told me before that one of the barely functioning Pipboys that we had found on a dead Vault dweller outside of D.C. had the coordinates marked to a place called 'Walt Disney World', based on our maps."

"Walt Disney World?" Donnovan raised an eyebrow.

"Don't look at me." Dusk shrugged. "We haven't found anything on the subject besides that it was a territory in pre-War Flordia."

"How the hell does that make any sen-" Donnovan began, but was cut off.

"Here's a good spot." Dusk stated. She swung her rifle off of her back, and thrust it out towards Donnovan.

"Whoa, what?" Donnovan asked, confused.

"Give me your binoculars." She commanded. Donnovan handed them over, and Dusk put them to her eyes.

"Yep." She muttered, her eyes to the lenses. "Okay, look through the scope. See that rock way out there? The one that looks like a molerat?" Donnovan briefly glared at Dusk before he himself looked through the rifle scope. His tiny bit of annoyance disappeared immediately. To be fair, the rock did indeed resemble a molerat.

"Yeah." Donnovan mumbled.

"Okay. Lay down and see if you can't hit it." Dusk said. "What do you think the distance is?"

"Um." Donnovan moved the scope away from his face. "Dunno, about... 200 meters maybe?"

"That's what I was thinking." Dusk reached over and fiddled with the scope adjustment. "Okay, you're good to go."

"I've never shot that far before." Donnovan stated. "I mean, the few times I did shoot a scoped rifle,the targets were at like 70, maybe 80 meters."

"Well, we'll start here." Dusk stated. "Don't worry about ammo. I've got plenty. I haven't exactly been able to fire the gun all that often. I'm pissed I didn't get to use it more against those Midwestern assholes. Only got a confirmed kill on that one during our split."

"Alright." Donnovan shrugged. He laid down on the dirt, Dusk helping him put his hands in the proper position. She laid down next to him and peered through the binoculars.

"Okay, go for it." Dusk stated. "Cross-hairs over the target for your first shot."

Donnovan peered through the scope, and found the rock. He put the cross-hairs over the clump, then pulled the trigger. The gun cracked and kicked back. A puff of dust flew up into the air far behind the rock and dispersed into the air.

"Shit." Donnovan cursed.

"When you pulled the trigger, you jerked the gun up a bit in anticipation of the kick. Try to get used to it." Dusk explained.

"Gotcha." Donnovan nodded, pulled the bolt back on the rifle, and sighted in on his target.

The rifle cracked again, and again, dust kicked up far behind the rock. Donnovan grunted in frustration.

"Don't worry." Dusk said. "Okay, try this. When you sight in, don't think too much about pulling the trigger. Once you think you have it set, just squeeze the trigger. You're a bit jumpy, so do that until you get used to the kick. Remember, squeeze, don't jerk or pull. Only your trigger finger should move."

"Okay." Donnovan stated, somewhat unsure.

"Oh, I have a better idea." Dusk said. "Tell me when you're sighted in. I'll say 'fire' three times. Right after I say it the third time, I want you to shoot."

"How's that going to help?" Donnovan wondered.

"You're kind of nervous about when the right time to shoot is, even when you have it sighted in well. The fact that I'm making you shoot after I say 'fire' three times takes away any choice you have in the matter, and with it, your indecisiveness."

Donnovan nodded in agreement, then popped his neck and looked through the scope again. Dusk reached over and pulled the bolt back for him. He laughed awkwardly, then concentrated back on his target.

"Okay... Sighted." Donnovan announced.

"Fire..." Dusk commanded. "Fire... Fire..."

The gun cracked, and this time, the dust cloud kicked up significantly closer to the rock, but was also slightly to the left.

"Huh." Donnovan exhaled.

"See, that was a little bit better." Dusk said. "Look, this will take at least a couple weeks at least for you to get it down well. Like I said, I don't mind using ammo, since I think I can turn you into a decent sniper. Just help me out with buying ammo when we can, and promise me we'll practice every day."

"Okay." Donnovan said, feeling slightly uplifted. "I do want to learn."

"Good attitude." Dusk stated, turning back to the binoculars. "But for right now, you're still pretty terrible. So try again. This time, just out of curiosity, when you shoot, put the cross-hairs slightly to the right of the rock. I want to check something..."

…...

"So what exactly happened when we were split up?" Donnovan asked Dusk as the pair walked back to the expedition's camp for the night. After an hour and a half of shooting, the sun had set, and Dusk had decided to call it a night.

"Well, we saw you get dragged off." Dusk explained. "Morrill and Morgan were pinned behind that side of the bunker. We couldn't do much as they retreated with you. Couldn't exactly pursue with dead and wounded."

"Yeah." Donnovan agreed.

"Well, we regrouped just outside the bunker. That's when we ran into Ishmael." Dusk frowned.

"If I remember right, his exact first words to us were 'You fucking idiots are out in the open. Follow me before you get your asses shot.'" Donnovan couldn't help but grin. "Anyway." Dusk continued. "He help us set up camp on the edge of the forest, then disappeared. We had sat there for a few hours when..."

**[]****[]****[]****[]****[]****[]****[]****[]**  


"Where the hell is he?" Morgan cursed, staring into the woods. "He said he wouldn't be long."

Right on cue, it seemed, Ishmael melted into sight in front of them.

"I found your buddy." Ishmael announced, glancing around at the expedition as he toyed with the stealth boy he had just been using.

"You sure it's him?" Amata asked nervously.

"That little spit fuck with short brown hair? Yeah." Ishmael muttered. "Had a brief chat with him, too. Hell, I heard the guards call him by name." Ishmael put his hands up and made mock quotation marks with his fingers. "'Knight Donnovan Edan.' You Brotherhood ever think of how cliché your names sound, sometimes?"

Glade stared angrily at Ishmael. He had taken a step when Rockfowl put his arm out, stopping him.

"So then, please tell us. Can we get him out?" Rockfowl asked. If there was anyone who could keep calm in situations like these, it was him. Ishmael's gaze briefly lingered on the furious Glade before he turned to Rockfowl.

"Fucking of course." He answered curtly. "Do you really think I would've come back if I couldn't? I would've just booked it back to New Jerusalem, gotten drunk, then gone brahmin tipping for the hell of it."

Most of the expedition stared at him in disbelief, wondering how he could be so callous.

"I really, really don't like him." Lyons emphasized to Dusk.

"Tell us, Ishmael." Rockfowl said, his voice showing no signs of anger at all. "What do we have to do?"

"'We?'" Ishmael tilted his head back in a cocky manner. "It's not we. I only need probably two of you."

"So you do need some of us to get him out, then." Yearling spoke up.

"Don't flatter yourselves," Ishmael sneered. "I could've done this myself if I hadn't lost some of my gear in a game of Caravan to some two-bit messenger with dreadlocks. Never did get the asshole's name."

"Alright." Rockfowl agreed, still somehow showing no emotion. "Who do you need."

"You, what's your name?" Ishmael pointed.

"Defender Anne Marie Morgan." Morgan answered bluntly, glaring at Ishmael with dislike.

"You a grunt?"

"You could say that."

"How are you in hand-to-hand?"

"Good enough."

"Okay." Ishmael nodded. "I need you. And... let's see... You. Blondie." He said.

"Me?" Lyons asked.

"Of course not. You, in the robe." Ishmael indicated Olin.

"Me?" She asked.

"Yeah, you look like you know tools well. You have a blowtorch?"

"Yes..."

"Bring it. I need you too."

"Do you need anyone else?" Morrill offered.

"Did I ask?" Ishmael retorted.

******[]****[]****[]****[]****[]****[]****[]****[]**

"Damn, so he wasn't just a dick to me, huh?" Donnovan asked as he and Dusk walked back into the expedition's camp.

"No way." Dusk said, sitting down next to a fire that Morrill had started.

"Hey Don, find any seaweed?" Glade joked, walking up behind him. Donnovan threw up his hand in a middle finger, the back of his hand facing Glade, who laughed. "It's good you're back, ya damn psycho." Glade thumped Donnovan on the back. It seemed Glade had moved past his very legitimate anger against Donnovan during the brief split, fearing that he was dead.

"So you were saying, Dusk?" Donnovan said, sitting down on the dirt facing the fire.

"Well, if he, Morgan, and Olin were gone for more than a day, he said we should move out." Dusk explained.

"Actually," Glade interjected, "I think he said 'grab your shit and get the fuck out of dodge'."

"Anyway," Dusk said loudly, getting on with her story. "We moved on. We wanted to wait, but we took his advice... And he was right. After we moved camp, I went back to look at our old campsite, and sure enough, there were a couple of Midwesterners poking around. Anyway, we were moving west, keeping the forest to our right, and never more than a couple yards away."

"You said you killed two of them?" Donnovan prompted, curious.

"Oh yeah." Dusk stated thoughtfully. "That's where we lost Reggie, too."

******[]****[]****[]****[]****[]****[]****[]****[]**

"How much longer do we have to move so quietly?" Glade complained as the expedition made their way through set of rock formations near the edge of the ash forest. The night was lit up by the moon, and the group was trying to shake a pair of Midwestern Brotherhood soldiers that were right on their tail. Glade and Dusk were bringing up the rear of the expedition convoy, which was several feet ahead of them. Reggie, the Mr. Gutsy, was floating between them as an escort.

"Well you're not exactly being quiet, are you?" Dusk hissed. "Shut up or they'll hear you whining."

"Still, I think we can move quietly without skittering around like fucking centaurs." Glade grunted.

"Sshhh!" Dusk suddenly put her finger to her lips. Her eyes became wide. "HIDE!"

Glade flattened himself into a small crevasse in the wall to his right, while Dusk dove behind a pile of rock fragments.

"Reggie!" Dusk whispered loudly, "Get..." The sound of rifles being cocked quieted her for a moment. "Reggie, idle mode!" Reggie's appendages, which had coiled in anticipation of a fight, suddenly lost all rigidness and slowly floated downward until they hung in the air, giving the robot the appearance of a green beach ball with tentacles. From the direction which they came, two Midwestern Brotherhood soldiers came forward, weapons raised, the antler design on their power helmets clearly visible in the moonlight. Both were armed with laser rifles, both aimed at Reggie as they advanced, one of them sweeping his weapon in a circle, looking for threats.

Dusk, who did not have time to ready her weapon, was lying still behind the pile of rubble, her rifle lying across her chest, barrel toward her feet. Her body was parallel with the path in which the soldiers were advancing, her head in the direction from which they had come onto the scene. As the Midwesterners passed her hiding spot, they were nearing the crevasse where Glade had hidden. Realizing that he would be seen, Dusk slowly raised her rifle up, putting the stock behind her head, and lifting the barrel as slow as she could without alerting suspicion. Seconds seemed to last like hours as she slowly brought the scope to her eye, and sighted in on on the soldier furthest away from the wall. With a slow exhale, she squeezed the trigger. The rifle's boom echoed through the rocks, reverberating in Dusk's helmet as the rifle kicked back, Dusk's arm jerking significantly as well due to the lack of support. The eyepiece to one of the Midwesterner's power helmets was blown out, and the man's body stiffened, falling hard to the dirt. As the second soldier swung around, readjusting his aim to the location from where the offending shot had come from, Glade stepped out from his crevasse and put the barrel of a double-barrel shotgun in between the unarmored niche in the soldier's power armor between the thigh and groin muscle, and pulled the trigger. An echoing boom rocked the night again, and blood sprayed down the soldier's armor as he screamed in pain. His right arm flew out, pulling down on the trigger of his rifle and causing a beam of red light to tear into Reggie, who suddenly kick started back to life. Glade put the shotgun to his target's unarmored neck and pulled the second trigger, snuffing the man's life out with another blast of lead shot. He was then promptly bowled over by a massive, bouncing metal ball with arms flailing in all directions. The laser, which had hit the idling Reggie in the combat inhibitor, had apparently also damaged some of Reggie's circuitry, and the robot was suffering the consequences.

"ANOTHER GLORIOUS DAY IN THIS MAN'S ARMY!" Reggie screamed, spinning violently, his flamer firing in all directions and catching an unfortunate radroach on fire. He floated forward, ramming directly into a rock wall. He backed up, then flew forward again with the same result, a resounding clang echoing in Dusk and Glade's ears. He wound up a third time, then spun around.

"Reggie, power down!" Dusk exclaimed in desperation, forgetting Reggie's programed commands.

"ARE YOU READY TO DIE FOR YOUR COUNTRY, YOU COMMIE SON OF A BITCH?" Reggie yelled threateningly at a nearby rock before engulfing it in flames. He then turned and floated quickly in the opposite direction of where the rest of the expedition was going.

"Shit, wait! Reggie!" Dusk called, chasing after the Mr. Gutsy, Glade right behind her. Their chase was short lived, as when they exited the small rock formations, they saw Reggie speeding directly back in the ash forest.

"NOTHING I LIKE MORE THAN A LITTLE R AND R ON UNCLE SAM'S TIME!" Reggie's fading voice announced as he rocketed towards the dead trees.

"Damn. Should we go get him?" Dusk glanced at Glade.

"Uh..." Glade paused as Reggie disappeared into the trees. "Do I want to go into the forest of ash to chase a robot that's lighting up everything in its path...? No... No, I'm good."

******[]****[]****[]****[]****[]****[]****[]****[]**

Donnovan rolled with laughter.

"What's so damn funny? We lost a robot." Glade looked annoyed.

"Not saying it doesn't suck." Donnovan pointed out. "It did happen though, and hell, you might as well laugh about it. I mean come on... That is pretty damn weird."

"I guess." Glade admitted, a small smile appearing on his lips as his eyes gazed into the fire. "At least he still knows he hates Communists."

"Donnovan." A voice stated. Donnovan turned to find Morrill standing several feet behind them.

"Yes?" Donnovan asked.

"Rockfowl's come back and told me of a two-story school building several hundred yards from here." Morrill said. "Could I ask you to join him in taking a look inside tomorrow?"

"Sure." Donnovan agreed. "Sounds interesting. Not like it can be worse than running into a bunch of those Midwesterners, right?"

.

.

**Author's Note: After some prompting from a fellow author, I will finally say it. There will be a sequel to this story. Also, I'd like to clear up any confusion as far as passing of time. Some readers it seems have thought that the expedition is traveling too fast. Looking back through my story, there are several places where it mentions that weeks and other periods of time pass before the expedition comes runs in to its next situation. However, I do realize that some of these parts are only mentioned in passing. I will do my best to make the passing of time much clearer from here on out. Thank you to those of you that have pointed this out, specifically Kasrkin-Ghost. Also, thank you guys again, for reading and reviewing. I try to take every single review into consideration, and pretty much all of them help. I truly appreciate it.**


	29. Sins of the Past

**Part 29 – Sins of the Past**

The morning seemed to come far too quickly as Donnovan was shaken awake.

"Are you ready?" Rockfowl asked him. Donnovan grunted into his cot before turning to look at Rockfowl.

"Yeah... Gimme... Gimme a few minutes. Get my gear." Donnovan said, speaking in fragments.

"Alright, I'll be waiting outside." Rockfowl said as he exited Donnovan's tent. Donnovan rolled over, and soreness gripped his entire left arm and pectoral muscle. The wound was acting up again. He had taken a dose of Med-X the previous day, and it had worn off during the night. He lay on his back, his body urging him to stay in bed, not feeling up to the task of moving. It was a rather strange feeling for Donnovan. Exploring was something he loved to do, whether it was an open area or a building. For the first time in his life, he was mentally arguing with himself about whether or not to go. He managed to fight the urge to stay lying in his bed and straightened up, gripping the side of his cot with his hands, forcing himself to stay in a seated position. Willfully trying to ignore the slowly dawning realization that his lethargy and disconnected feelings were most likely the portents of an upcoming Med-X addiction, he finally managed to pull himself to his feet. Donnovan found his traveling gear and donned it. Though he had been able to use Dusk's sniper rifle the night before, that was because his elbow had been propping it up. Yearling insisted that he refrain from using his beloved AK-47 until his wound healed more, as with an assault rifle, he would have to support it with his left hand if he wanted to fire it with any accuracy. Keeping this thought bitterly in mind, Donnovan grabbed his scoped .44 magnum, several speed loaders, and a few other traveling essentials before exiting the tent.

"Alright..." He grunted lethargically.

"You don't look healthy, my friend." Rockfowl commented, a look of concern on his face.

"Huh? No, it's... it's... Dammit, hang on." Donnovan muttered as he turned and wandered over to one of the pack brahmin. He dug inside and came up with a syringe, half full of a particular drug. He surreptitiously stuck his left arm into the bag and carefully injected half of the contents of the plastic syringe into his veins. He allowed the half-dose of Med-X to take effect before he discreetly capped the syringe and hid it in his pocket. He walked back over to Rockfowl, who had been looking off in the direction of the buliding he had found. It was strange to see him without his power armor and in regular traveling gear.

"Okay." Donnovan nodded, feeling slightly renewed. "Lead the way."

"Alright, it's a short walk this way." Rockfowl indicated, resting the barrel of his laser rifle against his shoulder, his right hand gripping the stock. "I think Glade and Lyons are going to join us later."

"So you found it while getting a lay of the land, huh?" Donnovan asked.

"Yes. I really wanted to look around inside, but decided against it." Rockfowl explained. "I knew Morrill would like to know about it before anyone goes inside. It's a pretty large building."

"Kind of an isolated location for a school, isn't it?"

They continued their conversation until a large, two story red-brick building came into view. It was build in a square shape. In the center, Donnovan and Rockfowl reached the peak of the small hill overlooking the buliding, they could see a school yard with hoops tacked to flat pieces of wood on metal poles, several swings, a slide, a chain-link, barbed-wire-topped fence surrounding the entire perimeter, and most disconcerting of all, what appeared to be four watch towers, one at each corner of the fence.

"That's a bit unusual for a school." Donnovan said, casting a sideways glance at Rockfowl.

"I thought so, too." He agreed. "Let's go."

As they made their way towards the school, Donnovan noticed bars on every single one of the windows. As they neared the heavy-duty chain link gate, they noticed several warning placards, some disallowing the use of wireless devices and others prohibiting the possession of firearms or sharp objects. A massive green metal sign set in the middle of the gate caught their attention:

'Richardson Re-Education Institution'

'An extension of the Crossroads Correctional Center'

"Rockfowl..." Donnovan stated slowly. "This isn't just a school..."

"It does look to be something more... eerie." Rockfowl finished Donnovan's thought for him. His face bore a look of withdrawn curiosity and slight caution.

"Where does the name 'Richardson' ring a bell...?" Donnovan wondered as he curled his fingers around the chain links, staring through the spaces at the red-brick building.

"Donnovan, back up for a minute." Rockfowl stated. Donnovan turned to see Rockfowl at a nearby booth. "I think these are the controls." Donnovan gave him a thumbs up and took several steps back. Rockfowl smacked his knuckles against the gate control switch, and Donnovan twitched slightly, expecting a screeching sound. Nothing happened however. Rockfowl smacked the switch again, and again, there was no movement from the gate. He shrugged at Donnovan and stepped out of the booth, looking at the top of the gate.

"Well fuck..." Donnovan muttered. "Now what?"

"Are you okay to climb with that arm?" Rockfowl asked, removing a blanket from his backpack.

"I should be fine." Donnovan grunted, lightly stretching his injured arm.

"Alright then." Rockfowl nodded. He unfurled the blanket, then tossed it over the top of the fence, letting it fall and cover a portion of the barbed wire. "That should help us." With that, he gripped the fence, positioned himself, then pushed off with his left foot. He nimbly climbed the fence, jumping off once he had cleared the top. Donnovan followed suit, positioning his left foot on one of the gate's bars, then pushing forward and gripping the fence with his uninjured arm. He paused.

"Um... How...?" Donnovan glanced at Rockfowl, then his injured arm.

"Can you maybe push off with your feet and reach for the top of the gate?" Rockfowl suggested.

"Oh, uh. Yeah." Donnovan nodded. He drew his body back, bending his legs, and threw himself upward, his fingers managing to grip the blanket thrown over the barbed wire at the top of the gate. He pulled himself up, legs flailing somewhat awkwardly, and managed to half tumble, half roll off of the top of the fence. He landed awkwardly on the ground, partway on his side. Slightly embarrassed, he pulled himself up and scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly. Rockfowl nodded his head towards the metal, double-doors of the building up ahead. The two of them passed by old sports courts and swing sets, finding themselves at the entrance doors. A chain had been wrapped around the handles, a padlock connecting them. Across the double doors, in massive red letters, the word "DANGER" seemed to have been spraypainted. Rockfowl and Donnovan briefly exchanged glances.

"Has your left arm had enough time to rest? Do you think you can try to pick the lock?" Rockfowl asked.

"Should have, yeah. So long as the lock isn't too complicated... I'm not the door breacher, that was Vargas' thing..." Donnovan smiled, reminiscing of the raids he had done with Vargas before his untimely demise in Hellfire Crater. He knelt down and examined it. "Oh, psh. Someone must've wanted to leave in a hurry. Anyone could pick this piece of shit." It took only fifteen seconds for Donnovan to carefully unhook the lock and toss it aside.

"I suggest we err on the side of caution," Rockfowl stated, reading his laser rifle, "and enter quietly. That warning must be there for a reason."

"It could also just be some dude trying to protect his stash of goods, too." Donnovan pointed out as Rockfowl carefully removed the chain. "But yeah, I agree. Better safe than sorry." He nodded at Rockfowl, drawing his .44. Rockfowl slowly opened the left door, and Donnovan stepped inside, checking both hallways through the scope of his revolver. "Clear." Rockfowl walked in behind him, rifle raised. They both took in the debris littered hallway.

"In light of recent events, I suggest we stick together in here." Rockfowl suggested in a whisper.

"No arguments here." Donnovan agreed quietly. "Not like I'll be able to do much against more than one baddie with my fucked up arm, anyway. Where do you think we should go?"

"Let me see..." Rockfowl stated thoughtfully, reading the plaque in front of them, right next to another set of doors that read 'Courtyard'. " Well, 'Courtyard'... 'Infirmary'... That might be worth taking a look around in... 'Warden's Office'..."

"Let's hit the infirmary first." Donnovan suggested. "See if we can scrounge up some meds. That's something we can never have enough of." Rockfowl nodded in agreement, and the two of them made their way down the left hallway. They reached a junction, with the door to the infirmary directly in front of them, and a staircase leading up at the end of the hall branching off to the right.

They stepped inside the infirmary to find it mostly abandoned. Gurneys and beds were lying haphazardly all over the room, some broken. Dust covered everything, including overturned medical carts and a shattered computer in the corner. On a mostly untouched bed in the corner lay an unclothed skeleton. Having seen plenty of these in the ruins of D.C., Donnovan nevertheless found the sight disturbing for a different reason. The skeleton's shape was all wrong. It's lumbar vertebrae arch was far more pronounced than was normal, as if the former person had been arching their back for extended periods of time. The jaw was missing several teeth, though a small, dry piece of cloth was hanging from out of the mouth. The hands were intertwined with each other, as were the legs, and the position of the skeleton's upper body and hips suggested that whoever this was, they were likely writing in pain before they died. The most jarring aspect of the skeleton, was that it was not full-sized. It seemed to belong to a young adolescent, no more than twelve or thirteen years old. Rockfowl had turned away rather quickly and began searching for anything of use.

"Uh... You... got anything?" Donnovan asked, turning his head towards Rockfowl while keeping his eyes locked on the skeleton.

"A few stimpacks... There's a crate here, but I'm not sure what it could be." Rockfowl scratched his chin.

"Well, let's take a look then get the hell out of this room. I'm really starting to get creeped out, dude." Donnovan shuddered, tearing his eyes away from the skeleton and walking over to Rockfowl, who was bent over a crate. With some force, he pried the side of the crate off, and many blue syringes wrapped individually inside metal cases came tumbling out.

"Well that is one thing I did not expect to find in a school..." Rockfowl raised an eyebrow.

"Psycho? Seriously?" Donnovan was flabbergasted. "Something doesn't smell right about this place."

"I will not take Psycho." Rockfowl announced. "Med-X is one thing, but that? There is no way."

"No prob, dude." Donnovan nodded. "But right now, I'm a lot more curious to see what we'll find in the director's office."

With that, the two of them set off down the opposite end of the hallway to a fancy wooden door. A name placard to the right read in white letters: 'Warden Martin J. Ferguson'

Donnovan examined the door. What looked to be scratch marks covered the entire door. The fact that it was locked came as no surprise, and Donnovan, with a heavy sigh, kneeled down and went to work on the lock.

"Is this one more difficult?" Rockfowl asked.

"God dammit." Donnovan cursed as the bobby pin he was using snapped in half. "Yeah. I've only picked, like, two or three locks this complicated. They're not even that tough. I just kind of suck at this, is all." After two more bobby pins had been broken, Donnovan finally manged to unlock the door and enter the office. It was very well preserved, save for the dust that covered everything in the room. A speaker in the upper left corner was playing a series of strange, guttural sounds. They were somehow familiar, but very unintelligible. They seemed to be overlapping each other, which created a rather annoying cacophony of noise. Shelves stocked with books on law and history lined the walls. A window to their left was covered by a set of curtains. In the center of the room, a large mahogany desk stood. On it was a large calendar, a globe, a computer, and a set of pencils, one of which seemed to have bite marks all over it. In the chair, another skeleton sat. This one was fully grown and clothed in a raggedy uniform. The name tag read 'Warden Ferguson'. The skeleton's hands were hanging loosely at its sides, a .38 caliber revolver lying on the floor nearby. Donnovan picked the small gun up, noting the hole in the top of the skeleton's skull. Dropping the cylinder, he saw only one shell in the gun. It looked like this man had meant business. Not being bothered by this skeleton, Donnovan unceremoniously swung the chair in a jerking motion, tossing the skeleton to the floor before occupying the skeleton's spot. He stared at the green computer monitor, a small green vertical rectangle blinking in the top left of the screen. He reached forward and hit enter on the keyboard.

'Welcome Warden Ferguson. Enter password.'

"Well fuck, that was a good try." Donnovan muttered, putting his hands on top of his head and leaning back in the chair, his eyes on the login screen. Though he had always somewhat understood how modern technology worked (having done some repairs on Reggie himself before the robot went haywire and ran off), programming was never his strong suit. All he had managed to do was bring up a basic command shell after watching Olin do it several times. Donnovan pushed the chair back sightly, and began searching through the desk drawers for something, anything that could help him. Eventually, he found a stacks of papers. The top pages was a faded photograph showing a tall, uniformed man, his arm around a raven-haired woman, who was holding a baby in her arms. Donnovan tossed the photograph aside uninterestedly. After sifting through several notices and memos, he came across a handwritten page. The writing was shaky but still legible. Making sure to stay quiet, he read the page aloud so Rockfowl could hear.

'It would make sense that Robco's ever-running generators would keep working, though. Ironic that I didn't want them here at first. But now to buisness.

This is for the record. I cannot find the courage to speak and leave a voice recording, so I will write this as an alternative. I fear that karma has finally made come full-circle. With everything we have done here, we deserve worse than the irradiated hell that has been unleashed on this earth. It would make sense, after years of this "testing", the one time we have a Class 5 problem on our hands, the entire country, and possibly the entire world, would have to go dark several days before. Regardless, nobody helped these children while we did our despicable jobs, now no one is helping us as the tables have turned... And we do not deserve the help. Here I sit, having locked myself in my own office, too terrified as to what those... things might do to me. I would deserve all of it, but I am too much of a coward to face fate. I've heard people say that MKULTRA was no worse that what we did. I would agree. What we did was much more terrible. The drugs were horrible yes, but the radiation? How could we do that? To American children? Wards of the state or not, they were still kids. I don't know how I buried my conscience this long. It woke up far too late. In order to sear into my brain the sins I have committed, I have left the speaker on. Those sounds deserve to haunt my last moments.

If anyone comes across this, the password to my terminal is "Through Blue Eyes". Please... Read, record, and share this information. We cannot allow this to happen again.

Signed,

Martin J. Ferguson'

Donnovan looked up at Rockfowl with a pained expression on his face. Rockfowl looked floored.

"What... What the hell does he mean by that? Did they seriously experiment on kids with Psycho? Isn't that a military-grade drug?" Donnovan grunted. "And what the hell are "those sounds" supposed to mean?" Donnovan looked up at the speaker in the corner, still transmitting the eerie groans.

"Enter the password, let's see what's on the computer." Rockfowl suggested, looking at the speaker with concern. Donnovan typed in the password, and brought up a menu. Four options were listed: medical reports, interdepartmental memos, journal, and speaker. Donnovan looked through the medical reports section first, and found very disturbing test reports and drug administration levels. After a certain date, the people here had stopped injecting Psycho into the patients. They replaced it with something much worse.

"Holy shit, dude." Donnovan gasped. "Listen." He began to read one of the entries aloud. "New test materials have been shipped. New tests will be conducted with the intention of understanding how Chinese civilians will react to different types of radiation. In the package: uranium, plutonium, barium... polonium... Fucking hell."

"I have heard enough of this. I would very much like to leave now." Rockfowl said. Though he looked calm, his eyes betrayed a slightly nervous feeling. "Can you download that onto your Pipboy?"

"Yeah." Donnovan nodded, syncing up the two pieces of technology. Everything transferred over, save for one of the four categories: speaker. Donnovan turned back to the computer and selected the option. A new screen came up, with two options:

'Enable/Disable Courtyard Microphone'

'Back'

A chill ran across Donnovan's entire body as he slowly hit the first option, and the sounds from the speaker were cut off immediately. He selected the option again, turning them back on. Moving his head slowly in horror of what he had just realized, Donnovan looked over at the curtain-covered window. He stood up out of his chair and walked over to it, Rockfowl following him. Donnovan reached his slightly shaking hand out, moved a piece of the curtain just enough to look through, then immediately let it fall back into place. He backed up against one of the bookshelves, his senses overcome by what he had seen. Rockfowl had seen it too, as he stood rooted to the spot, staring at the curtains.

Through the bars set in the window, Donnovan noticed a massive crowd of people. Only they weren't people. Their skin was decayed, their rib cages showing. Their eyes were empty and graying. All of these people, all of these ghouls, were children, most likely about the same age as the skeleton of the child that was lying in the infirmary bed. He hadn't counted them, but all Donnovan saw was a sea of dried out, skinny bodies, flesh rotting off in some places. Both Rockfowl and Donnovan were silent, the only sounds coming from the groans of the irradiated shells of former children outside, their noises carrying through the speaker in the office.

"They were experimenting on kids..." Donnovan finally found his voice. "Irradiating... kids... Using a child correctional facility as a cover..."

"We need to leave... NOW." Rockfowl insisted.

"No shit... It'd be nice to not alert them." Donnovan agreed, managing to find the feeling in his legs again. Rockfowl headed to the doorway, Donnovan right behind him. They had taken several steps down the hall, then suddenly froze. They were staring at three of the same creatures that infested the courtyard.

"How...?" Was all Donnovan managed to say.

"Stairs." Rockfowl answered, reminding Donnovan of the staircase they had seen before they entered the infirmary.

The adolescent ghouls stared at them for a brief moment, before one threw its head back and uttered a loud hissing scream, while the other two charged. With almost no time to react, Rockfowl's laser rifle fire two blasts while Donnovan's .44 roared, reverberating through the building. All three of the ghouls dropped to the floor, but immediately after, a haunting chorus of hisses and screams could be heard from the doors to the courtyard, directly across the exit. With a brief glance at each other, Rockfowl and Donnovan both bolted for the building's entrance. The doors to the courtyard suddenly began to shake, hisses and growls being emitted by the ghoulified children. Dents began appearing in the doorway, and the entire frame began to shudder. Rockfowl and Donnovan burst out the entrance to the building and both turned to close the doors, but it was too late.

The frame of the door to the courtyard gave a massive, echoing crack, and the doors fell forward into the hallway. Like something out of a nightmare, dozens of small ghouls came pouring through, their eyes hungrily fixed on Donnovan and Rockfowl. The two men turned and sprinted for the gate, holstering their weapons and running as fast as their legs would allow. The horde of ghouls was very close behind them as Donnovan and Rockfowl launched themselves as the chain-link fence and began to climb. Donnovan felt the unpleasant sensation of the stitches in his wound tearing as he used his left arm to climb. Though he felt a pang of pain, the adrenaline and half-dose of Med-X helped him mostly ignore it. As he reached the top of the fence, a realization hit him. He had climbed where the barbed wire at the top was exposed, not covered by the blanket. No sooner had this thought entered his head than he felt a small, rotting hand grab onto his boot. This seemed to spur him on, and he launched himself up and over the fence, shaking the ghoul's grip, and trying to catch as little of the barbed wire against his skin as possible. He landed heavily on his side on the dirt, several fresh wounds all over his body bleeding steadily. After glancing over at Rockfowl who had landed only a foot from him, Donnovan quickly examined his cuts while Rockfowl ripped the blanket from the top of the gate and backed away, staring at the horde of ghoulified children, a mortified look on his face. Donnovan slowly limped over to him.

"Are you injured?" Rockfowl asked, not taking his eyes off of the ghouls. They were gnashing their teeth, all gripping the chain link fence. Thankfully, whoever had designed this facility apparently had anticipated a massive riot, hence the fences. They showed no signs of weakness, not budging an inch from all of the rotting bodies fighting against it.

"Just little aches." Donnovan grunted. He bent over, putting his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath after his literally death-defying sprint. "Could've been a lot worse." He hung his head for a few seconds, then straightened up. "Hey, let's go. We both gotta get Yearling to fix us up." Donnovan grunted. Now that the adrenaline was disappearing, he was beginning to feel his wound ache again. Rockfowl seemed not to hear him and continued looking at the creatures. Donnovan put his hand on Rockfowl's shoulder. "Come on, dude. We can't stay here forever. Let's go." He lightly pulled Rockfowl away from the gate, and the man finally started moving. Donnovan and Rockfowl jogged off, away from the facility and back towards their camp, Rockfowl casting one last backwards glance at the miserable monsters.


	30. New Arrivals

**Part 30 – New Arrivals**

The sun still hung high in the sky when Rockfowl and Donnovan stumbled back into camp. Glade and Lyons, had just stepped out of their tents, apparently planning on heading out. Their expressions changed from excited, to disappointed, to alarmed within the span of several seconds.

"Where's Yearling?" Donnovan asked, gripping his wound. The Med-X had finally worn off, and the torn stitches were burning with excruciating pain.

"The fuck happened to you two?" Glade looked surprised, noticing the rips and tear

"After Yearling fixes my arm, I'll go show you." Donnovan grunted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dusk asked quizzically as she strode off.

"We will explain later." Rockfowl spoke up. "For now, I'd really like to go lie down."

"Did you get anything from the school, at least?" Glade persisted. Rockfowl raised his eyebrow at him before dropping the bag of loot he had gathered at Glade's feet.

Yearling came jogging around the corner, Olin right behind her. "Did you tear your stitches?"

"Yeah." Donnovan answered, grimacing from the pain as he pulled the neck lining of his traveling gear down to show Yearling the torn wound. "Got a few other nicks and cuts, but nothing serious. Rockfowl got cut up, too."

"Alright... Yearling nodded, examining the stitches. "At least you didn't re-open the wound too badly or anything. Just need to replace two of the stitches. Come on. Olin, can you take a look at him?" She indicated Rockfowl.

"Sure." Olin nodded, leading Rockfowl to a tent.

"One more thing." Yearling paused. "Stop by after you're done there. I want you to see how I put these stitches in. You didn't do too bad of a job, but I figure it couldn't hurt to train you a bit."

"Um... Sure." Olin stated, looking somewhat unsure.

"Hey, if something happens to me, we'll need someone else who can do these things. Okay?" Yearling continued. Olin nodded.

Yearling led Donnovan to her tent and had him stand outside in the sun for the light. She retrieved her medical equipment from inside and held up a syringe of Med-X. "Okay, listen closely." She said. "I'm going to give you a dose, but you have to promise me you wont take any more. I know you're already feeling some minor withdrawal."

"I wont." Donnovan nodded, hoping he was being honest.

"One of the syringes was missing from the pack Brahmin, so I figured you took it." Yearling went on as Donnovan held his arm out. She carefully inserted the syringe, and Donnovan felt the effects of the morphine-like drug kick in. He threw his head back, staring at the sky, his eyes twitching under his closed eyelids as the drug coursed through his veins. "Alright." Yearling said as she donned a pair of latex gloves and began disinfecting the area around the stitches. "So what did you find?"

"A hell of a lot more than we bargained for," Donnovan answered, slowly lowering his head, as the initial, familiar, light-headed rush of the Med-X faded away.

"Like...?"

"Well, we found a bunch of stimpacks, but... There was a ton of psycho, too."

"Psycho!" Yearling exclaimed. "Don't tell me you-!"

"Of course I didn't take any." Donnovan grunted in annoyance. "I'm not some Paradise Falls junkie."

"Okay... But... Wait..." Yearling paused, coming to the same conundrum that Donnovan and Rockfowl had stumbled onto back in the correctional facility. "Why did they have psycho at a school?"

"Wasn't just a school. It was a juvenile detention center. But more than that, it was used to test drugs on kids."

"What?" Yearling looked shocked.

"Yeah. I downloaded the logs of the Warden. They did some really sick shit. And I haven't even read all of it, yet."

"Those poor kids... They must have suffered..."

"They still are." Donnovan stated darkly as Yearling removed the torn pieces of the stitches and finished cleaning the wound.

"What do you mean?" Yearling asked as Olin came around the corner. "Oh, good. Okay, watch the pattern I sew into the stitches, okay?" Yearling said, turning to Olin. "That's all. I just want you to observe for this."

"Oh, okay." Olin agreed, looking relieved.

"But go on." Yearling turned back to Donnovan. "What do you mean, 'they still are'."

"Well," Donnovan winced slightly as Yearling began to put fresh stitches in. "Turns out after they had pumped those poor kids full of chems, they decided to test how they'd react to radiation."

"No..." Yearling paused, looking at Donnovan with her mouth open.

"Oh yeah, all kinds of different radioactive stuff. I guess they wanted to see how a nuke would affect Chinese civilians. You know, before the war?"

"Those kids are still alive? Wait... They're ghouls?" Yearling asked, looking just horrified. "Oh, sorry." She returned to his stitches.

"Yep." Donnovan lightly shook his head.

"Hey, don't move." Yearling muttered. "You'll mess this up."

"Sorry. But yeah," Donnovan continued. "Rockfowl and I had to shoot a few that were wandering around the building. Most were in the courtyard. They heard the shots and busted in from the courtyard. We ran like crazy."

"Um... So where are they?" Yearling asked, a note of concern in her voice.

"There's a reinforced, chain-link fence around the whole building. They're all there. Rockfowl and I had to climb to get out."

"That's how you tore the stitches, then?"

"Yeah... I guess Morrill will wanna know about this..." Donnovan said. "Where is he, anyway?"

"He's talking with the new arrivals." Olin answered.

"New arrivals?" Donnovan looked at her.

"Yeah. Three mercs coming from the northeast." Olin explained. "They came by about ten minutes before you guys got back."

"What do they want?" Donnovan asked suspiciously.

"They said they're trying to get to New Vegas because the mercenary work in their area had dried up."

"Did they say where they were from?" Donnovan continued.

"Didn't hear anything. Morrill probably knows."

"Where is he?"

"He and Dusk were talking with the mercs. They should be out by his tent." Olin said.

"Alright, I'm done." Yearling straightened up. She adjusted Donnovan's traveling gear.

"Thanks. I think I wanna go meet these mercs." Donnovan muttered, briefly patting his injured arm. He put on his worn duster and, with another thank you to Yearling, he walked on in the direction of Morrill's tent. As he rounded the corner, he saw Morrill and Lyons, dressed in their traveling gear. They were speaking with the three mentioned mercenaries, all of whom were clad in leather jackets and pants. They wore combat boots, and metal and plastic pieces covered their knees and elbows. All five stood near the edge of a small cliff overlooking the vast expanse of dry, arid land to the south.

"There you are, Donnovan." Morrill stated. "These three mercenaries have come upon us. They've requested to travel with us for safety." Donnovan noted the tone of caution in Morrill's voice.

"We have our own supplies, food, water." The leader of the mercenaries answered in a deep voice, turning to look at Donnovan. He was a tall, bald, dark-skinned, muscular man with a goatee on his chin. He was shielding his brown eyes against the sun with his left hand. On his back, a heavily customized M4 carbine was set. Donnovan noted a rail interface system and an ACOG scope on the sleek, black gun. On his right hip, a beautiful M1911 sat in a holster. "Safety in numbers. Further west, there's a lot of Legion slaver parties, and we're not exactly merchants."

"Legion?" Donnovan asked, looking between Morrill and the mercenary leader.

"You don't know about Caesar's Legion?" One of the other mercenaries asked with a laugh. Pale and lanky with dirty, shoulder-length black hair, he had a skinny face and green eyes. What looked to be a Remmington 870 was resting across his shoulders, his arms hanging over it.

"Hey, come on, lay off." The third mercenary stated. Donnovan looked at her, and his brain seemed to go numb. The mercenary's leather armor clenched tightly across her athletic body. Donnovan couldn't help but admire her curves. Her blonde hair, slightly covering her blue eyes, was layered up, and a ponytail with curled ends hung to the right of her head. An Mp10 sub-machine gun sat in a holster on her hip, and a metal baseball bat was on her back. "Eyes up here, bud." She grinned at Donnovan, pointing at her face with her index and middle finger. Donnovan turned slightly red, realizing his gaze had most likely lingered on her chest for a bit too long. She turned back to her companion, who was laughing. "Shut up, Chase. You think I haven't seen you doing the same thing? At least he didn't deny it."

Chase stopped laughing. "Get over yourself." He sneered.

"By the way, you said 'Kaisar' wrong again." She added.

"Fine," Chase rolled his eyes. "K-A-I-S-A-R. Happy, Anna?" He said, sounding out the word in question.

"Wait," Donnovan shook his head, thinking back to his history classes in Vault 101. "Caesar... Like... Julius Caesar?"

"Why does everyone say it wrong?" Anna threw her arms up in the air in exasperation.

"Okay, fine, Caesar." Donnovan emphasized the correct pronunciation. "What about him, or rather, what the hell is Caesar's Legion?"

"It's pretty much a huge army made up for slavers and slaves." Anna explained. "Women are mostly sold and used as objects, except for a few, from what I've heard, that raise children. They're led by a guy named Caesar."

"Go figure." Donnovan stated sarcastically.

"I know, right?" Anna snickered. "But yeah. Huge army, too. They fought the NCR a while back."

"Wait, they clashed with the New California Republic?" Donnovan asked.

"How do you know about the NCR, but not about Caesar's Legion?" Anna cocked her head to the side.

"Traders and travelers from the west." Donnovan waved his hand. "Some history lessons from my friends here. I know it's supposedly based on democracy, like the United States of old. Where is Caesar's Legion, though?"

"Well, supposedly their capital's in Flagstaff" Anna shrugged.

"Flagstaff, Arizona? Or what's left of it, rather?" Donnovan pressed.

"Yeah," Anna fixed Donnovan with an interested gaze. "I still can't believe you haven't heard about them."

"Last I heard was that there were a bunch of tribes coming together in Arizona." Donnovan muttered.

"More than a tribe, now. Either way, they and the NCR had this huge fight over Hoover Dam. NCR won, but barely."

"Hoover Dam?" Donnovan asked. "It's still operational? All the computers systems and all that, too?"

"Okay, seriously." Anna looked slightly alarmed. "How have you not heard of so much in the world, but you still know what democracy, Arizona, and Hoover Dam are? I mean, you don't look like a bunch of raggedy-ass tribals, don't get me wrong, but still..."

"I grew up in a va-," Donnovan began, but he caught Lyons' gaze. She surreptitiously shook her head the slightest bit, and Donnovan changed his words, mid-sentence "v-village... where we were lucky enough to have a bunch of books nearby." It had been over two years since Donnovan had stepped out of Vault 101 for the first time. He almost always answered honestly when asked of his origins back in the Capital Wasteland. But that was there, where he was revered as a hero, thanks in no small part to Three Dog. Here, out in the vast wastes of the former United States, things were different. Vault dwellers had valuable technology on their person and most likely knew the location of vaults. There was a very good chance that this could make them targets, as many people wanted to get into the Vaults (Donnovan had a brief, passing thought of the raiders back in the Springvale Elementary School, particularly the name 'Boppo'). Only now did Donnovan realize how lucky he was that the duster's sleeves covered his Pipboy.

"Books... That survived the war?" Anna cocked an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Yeah, basement of a small house. Guy must've been a historian or teacher or something." Donnovan rattled off the first idea that floated into his head.

"Huh." Anna muttered. "You said something about Julius Caesar?"

"Yeah." Donnovan nodded. "The leader of the Roman Empire."

"Roman Empire, huh?" Anna glanced at Chase.

"An old civilization."

"Yeah, I know." Anna looked at her leader. "Simon, this guy knows, too. They all probably do."

"I got that." Simon frowned. "You will be hunted down swiftly in Legion territory saying things like that." Simon warned Donnovan, then turned to Morrill and Lyons. "All of you."

"What?" Lyons furled her eyebrows. "Why?"

"Most people who've made that discovery have been killed. They are blasphemers to insult Caesar. At least to the soldiers of the Legion." Simon explained.

"Made... what disc... OH." Donnovan finally realized. "Is this guy pretending to be THE Caesar?"

"In his own head, I'm pretty sure he thinks he IS Caesar." Simon stated. "Facts and rumors... Well, mostly rumors, say that he's obsessed with fighting the NCR. That he's named them his 'Carthage'."

"Awesome..." Donnovan said sarcastically. "So not only have people kept fighting wars over resources, even though that's what caused the Great War in the first place... Now we have a guy named 'Caesar' who is literally repeating history. Let me guess, this guy's trying to force his way for the good of the world."

"From the rumors, yeah. Oh, and get this." Anna said. "Caesar's Legion? They dress like Roman soldiers."

"Wait, wait." Chase spoke up. "You're making it sound like Caesar's Legion's the only ones trying to do that. The NCR's not exactly better than them as far as land. They've been gobbling up everything to and making it part of the republic. They're trying to annex New Vegas, now."

"So's the Legion." Anna added.

"Santayana's probably rolling in his grave." Donnovan groaned, putting his palm to his face.

"Wait, when did all of this happen?" Lyons asked.

"Only about a month ago." Simon stated. Lyons looked disbelievingly at Simon.

"We have been traveling for well over half a year." Morrill pointed out.

"Fair enough." Sarah agreed.

"You all surprise me. You're actually educated." Simon stated. "How do you know so much?"

"You are, indeed." Lyons answered. "But we wont give you an answer just yet."

"Until you can trust us?" Simon asked.

"Indeed." Morill answered. "I do hope you understand. You are free to travel with us, but that information we will not reveal. At the very least, not immediately. Besides, we could ask you the same question you asked us."

"And I'd probably answer the same way." Simon laughed. "Traveling with you's good enough for us." He glanced back at Chase and Anna, who nodded.

"Go ahead and set up your tents." Morrill said. "For the time being, when you do set up camp, please set up several yards away."

"No problem." Simon agreed. "Chase, go grab the gear from the brahmin. Oh." He turned back to Morrill. "If you're hurting for extra carrying weight, feel free to use our brahmin for some spare things. He can still carry about 20 pounds without being weighed down too much."

"Thank you." Morrill stated as the trio of mercenaries walked off. Anna tapped Donnovan on the arm in a friendly manner and nodded as she walked by. Donnovan caught himself staring just below Anna's hips as she walked away. He shook his head and strode over to Morrill and Lyons.

"What do you think?" Lyons asked Donnovan.

"I don't know." Donnovan grunted. "I'm not sure. Can't say I trust them outright."

"I don't necessarily think they've revealed everything there is to know about their goals." Morrill pondered. "However, I do not believe that their intentions are harmful."

"Huh?" Donnovan asked. "Come on, Morrill. They're kind of suspicious, don't you think?"

"So was Ishmael." Lyons stated. "But he ended up being vital in getting you back."

"Oh yeah." Donnovan scratched the back of his head. The three of them watched the mercenaries walk over to their brahmin. Donnovan could have sworn he saw Anna move her head slightly to the right and whisper something to Chase, but Simon led them on.

"What do you have to report about the school?" Morrill turned to Donnovan.

"A hell of a lot." Donnovan said, taking one last look at the mercenaries before the three expedition members began walking back towards their tents. "We dug up some stimpacks, and a lot of ugly history."

"Really?" Morrill asked. "I'd like to see it."

"I haven't looked through it all, but I have it on my Pipboy." Donnovan stated, tapping the sleeve of his duster that covered the RobCo piece of technology. "I'm gonna go back down there in a bit. I didn't get a chance to look through the whole building. There's probably more supplies."

"Alright, just give me a debrief first, please." Morrill asked.

"Yeah, no prob."

.

.

.

One hour later, Donnovan was rearmed and ready. He had asked Rockfowl if he wanted to return to the school, but the former Outcast decided not to. Donnovan still thought about Rockfowl's reaction when he asked. His face had blanched slightly, and his eyes had widened. Donnovan checked his duster, hoping that Rockfowl would be okay.

"Are you sure I need to bring this son of a bitch?" Glade grunted, hefting Eugene, the 5mm minigun.

"Dude, I thought you'd be happy for a reason to use it again. You haven't for a while." Donnovan shot Glade a quizzical look.

"Yeah, but it's still a motherfucker to carry, and we have a bit of a ways to walk, don't we?"

"I'd really like it if you wouldn't complain, Glade." Lyons shook her head in annoyance as she checked the charge on her laser rifle.

"I don't want to walk back with this thing when we're done, too." Glade continued.

"Cry more." Morgan muttered, inspecting the bolt of her G3. "Besides, you won't have to. Morrill wants to move. He's given us, what... two hours to check the place out before we move on?"

"Yeah." Donnovan nodded. "The facility's to the west, so the expedition will have to pass by anyway."

"Good." Glade nodded, looking relieved.

"If Glade's done complaining-." Morgan began.

"Hey fuck you, you've never had to carry one of these things." Glade snapped. "And Don's too weak to, anyway."

Donnovan threw up his hand in a middle finger.

"Hey, mind if we come along?" A female voice asked. Donnovan turned to see Anna and Chase walking up to them. Donnovan cast a sideways glance at Morgan, who waved her hand as if to say 'whatever'.

"More of us than of you," Lyons warned. "So you'd truly be very stupid to try anything."

"We wont."

"Um... Do you know where we're going?" Donnovan asked them.

"That abandoned correctional facility down the road, from what I've heard." Chase said through his teeth. What looked like a toothpick was clenched in his mouth.

"Not really abandoned, to be honest." Donnovan informed them.

"Surprise us." Anna grinned.


	31. Encounter

**Part 31 - Encounter**

The fenced-off schoolyard was mostly empty, with only several of the ghoulified children wandering around aimlessly. Glade, Donnovan, Morgan, Lyons, Anna, and Chase all stood facing the gate.

"I thought you said there was a horde of them." Glade stated, annoyed.

"There was..." Donnovan peered through the slots in the gate, attempting to look into the doorway of the building. "They must've wandered back inside."

"How are we gonna do this?" Chase stated, spitting in to the ground. The closest ghoul to them suddenly became aware of their presence. It let out a scratchy grow and sprinted forward, latching onto the fence and attempting to push through it. Chase leveled his shotgun and began to poke at the ghoul with the barrel, laughing slightly.

"We need to draw them out somehow." Donnovan scratched his chin, glancing at the ghoul struggling to reach them.

"Go for it. Be bait." Glade stated. "Not like you're good for anything else."

"Uh yeah, fuck that." Donnovan grunted. "I already was."

"Maybe we can make-" Lyons began, but was cut off as Chase's shotgun roared. The head of the ghoul Chase had been toying with exploded in a shower of blood and bone as the blast tore the skull apart. The shot seemed to echo loudly, and from the inside of the building, a cacophony of familiar, hoarse roars resounded, and a trickle of adolescent ghouls eventually turned into a flood as the horde came pouring out of the building, all sprinting in a terrifying mass towards the group gathered on the opposite side of the fence. One-by-one, they all backed away as the horde drew closer. Reinforced chain-link fence or not, it was an unnerving sight. Glade was the only one who didn't move. He stood rooted to the spot, gripping Eugene in his arms. The group watched as the ghouls hit the fence full force, causing the metal rings to shake, but hold. Two of the ghouls unfortunate to be in the front of the horde were crushed by the impact and weight of their fellows, causing their limbs to crack and wither as their broken bodies disappeared into the flailing mass of rotting creatures. The other ghouls, undaunted, growled and hissed, trying with all their might to reach the humans.

"Well, how was that for a way to draw them out?" Chase grinned, cocking his shotgun and ejecting the spent shell, causing it to bounce across the dry ground. "You're up." Chase lightly shoved Glade, who gave him a look of absolute hatred before turning to the fence.

"Well, if the Followers are right, then I hope their god doesn't mind me doing this." Glade stated as the barrels of Eugene began to whir.

"He's probably busy enough as it is." Donnovan manged to say before the spray of bullets erupted from the minigun. The group all covered their ears as the lead poured into the creatures. The ghouls tripped and stumbled, falling over each other as tiny geysers of blood erupted from their bodies where the 5 millimeter rounds impacted. Pieces of flesh were stripped away as the creatures were mowed down en mass. Several moments later, Glade's gun finally stopped firing. The barrels whined to a halt, and smoke came pouring from the massive gun. The horde of ghouls were now a wide pile of twitching corpses lying in an expanding pool of blood. Every few inches, one hand or head could still be seen moving, pointlessly reaching towards the humans.

"Hell of a cleanup!" Chase laughed, brushing past Glade and unnecessarily clipping him with his shoulder.

"If I still had a few rounds left in this..." Glade turned towards Lyons.

"Simmer down, big guy." Donnovan advised, patting Glade on the back. "Let's not waste more ammo than we need to." There was sudden loud screech, and the massive gate to the building began to open. Everyone looked over at the gate, confused, to see Chase vault through the security booth window.

"Fixed it." He announced simply as the gate slid fully open.

"I guess we should get going, then." Morgan suggested, her eyes narrowing.

"Let's do this quick, please." Donnovan suggested. "I really don't wanna hang around here for more than we have to."

"Of course." Lyons nodded. "Medical supplies, anything else of use, and we will be good."

"Didn't you say your leader had given us two hours?" Anna asked.

"Yeah, but I'd rather wait outside than in there." Donnovan answered as the group set off through the yard towards the building itself. They soon found themselves in a hallway all too familiar to Donnovan. "Med wing's that way, Warden's office that way." Donnovan pointed as Glade sauntered off towards the Warden's office, Lyons following him. "I'm gonna go check the upstairs. That's what surprised us last time."

"I'll go with you," Anna offered, glancing at the others.

"Uh, sure." Donnovan nodded. "This way." He led the way towards the medical wing, Chase, Anna, and Morgan following him. Morgan and Chase went forward into the infirmary, while Donnovan and Anna took the unexplored hall to the right that faced the set of stairs. The slowly strode past several offices, finally making it to the base of the stairs. Donnovan briefly checked the cylinder of his .44 before he and Anna made their way up the two sets of stairs to the second floor.

"So, you said you guys are from the east?" Anna asked him as the found themselves in an identical hallway as the floor below, save for one difference. A door was set into the wall directly ahead of them, as opposed to the right, as with the infirmary.

"Yeah." Donnovan answered. Anna was back on the subject about his past. This was starting to make him slightly concerned. "A little town outside of D.C. You?"

"I'm from the West Coast, originally." She answered.

"That's it?" Donnovan asked. "No details?"

"Nope, that's all you get for now." She laughed, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. "Not like you've given me much to work with, either." She paused.  
" 'Radiology'" Anna said aloud, reading the plaque to the left of the door they were nearing. "Radiology?" What...?"

"Yeah, I'll explain once we get out of here." Donnovan said as they neared. He was about to add to his statement, when a heavy, raspy breathing suddenly reached his ears. It was coming from inside the room and was accompanied by the sporadic clunk of fists against metal. Donnovan and Anna briefly exchanged glances before raising their respective weapons. As they slowly crept up to the door, a series of growls could be heard. Donnovan and Anna slowly made their way into the room to find a skinny, white-haired ghoul pounding on a metal door marked 'broom closet'. It stopped in its relentless assault on the door, and whirled around, staring at the new arrivals. The ghouls thin, whispy hair hung awkwardly off its scalp as it twisted its head to an almost completely vertical position, examining them with its faded eyes. It threw its head back and gave a rasping roar, but no sooner had it taken one step than Anna squeezed off a burst from her MP10. The rounds ripped open a massive gash in the ghoul's chest, sending it sprawling backwards, blood pouring from the wound as the creature fell to the floor, unmoving.

"Poor thing." Anna stated, tilting her head slightly and examining the ghoul. "She couldn't have been older that twelve when she turned."

"What the hell was she pounding on the door for, though?" Donnovan though curiously. He walked over to the metal door and attempted to lift the latch, only to find it locked. He raised his hand and rapped on the metal with the back of his knuckles.

"Yes, there's someone in here." A low, growling voice called, causing Donnovan to stumble backwards in surprise. He tripped over the ghoul and fell against a nearby table. His stitches miraculously intact he got up rather awkwardly while Anna doubled over in laughter. "Are you still there?"

"Uh, yeah." Donnovan answered, walking back up to the door as Anna sank her teeth into the base of her thumb to try to keep from laughing harder. He gave her an annoyed glance. "How the hell did you get in there?"

"The question is not how I got in, but how it locked. I had hidden in here to try to avoid alerting the ghouls, but they broke a door downstairs. Must have caused some of the still working fail safes to activate and lock me out." The voice explained, slowly and methodically.

"A fail safe lock... on a broom closet?" Donnovan asked incredulously.

"I found that as perplexing as you." The voice stated. "But questioning it now would do no good. Can you help me out?"

"Glady... Just... How?" Donnovan grunted guiltily, realizing that he and Rockfowl had been the ones who caused the ghouls to trip the fail safe.

"The terminal." the voice growled. "See if you can do something with it."

"I can't." Donnovan stated. "But I can get someone who can." He turned to Anna. "We'll have to run back and get Yearling."

"No we wont." Anna announced, lightly elbowing Donnovan out of the way. "I've got this." She went to work on the computer, rapidly striking the keys. Donnovan let his eyes stray low on Anna again, but was suddenly interrupted when the metal door shook heavily, and slid open revealing a man standing in shadow. He stepped out.

"Thank you." He more growled it than spoke it. "I did not want to end my travels there." He was tall, dark-skinned man with a five o'clock shadow and dreadlocks. He had a strange presence about him, but Donnovan dismissed this, as he had told himself before, "normal" was a very relative thing out in the wastes.

"Who are you?" Anna asked curiously.

"I am a traveler and a courier." The man stated.

"What's your name?" Donnovan asked.

"I'd rather not share it."

"Alright..." Anna rolled her eyes.

"That was not the first time I have had a bad run in with pre-war technology," the man growled, looking back at the broom closet. He turned towards Anna and Donnovan. "I appreciate your help, but I must get going. I have quite the distance to travel."

"Um... Okay." Donnovan said, slightly taken aback. "We have a rather large group heading west, you can travel with us for a while if you like."

"Isn't that risky?" Anna asked Donnovan.

"No more risky than letting you and your buddies travel with us." Donnovan pointed out. Anna shrugged.

"I will have to decline." The man said. "My destination is in the east."

"Hey, you said you were a courier, right?" Donnovan asked, remembering something he had wanted to do for a while now.

"Yes."

"And you're headed east?"

"In that direction, yes."

"Would you mind taking a letter to New Jerusalem for me?"

"I cannot."

Donnovan blinked. "Uh... Okay."

"I'm sorry, but I have other matters to tend to." The man stated.

"Alright, no problem." Donnovan nodded, feeling slightly put out. "If you run into our buddies, tell them Donnovan and Anna let you leave."

"I am no leaving via the first floor, so don't worry." The man stated. Anna and Donnovan glanced at each other, confused. "If you'll excuse me," the man grunted and continued on, shouldering his pack. As he passed by, Donnovan caught sight of the cloak he was wearing. A white star was set in the middle of a blue circle, along the borders of which a chain of smaller stars ran. Five red lines ran vertically from the bottom of the circle, parallel with one another.

Donnovan was about to comment on this, when he felt a slim hand cover his mouth. Anna, who had seen the cloak as well, had stopped him.

"Look," she whispered into his ear. "Something isn't right about him. I know you, like me, recognized the Old World flag. Still, keep quiet. He doesn't exactly seem like the friendly type."

Donnovan looked at Anna, but didn't protest. After several moment had passed, during which Anna and Donnovan quietly discussed their mysterious encounter, they continued to comb through the upper floors. Their search yielded a small pile of stimpacks and several syringes of Med-X (Donnovan had to resist the urge to pocket several of them). In a separate room, they found a large box filled with Psycho syringes. Anna took several handfuls of the injectors, much to Donnovan's dismay. She had started to explain that it would make a good bribe, but was interrupted as a molerat, terrified by the racket the duo had been making, came tearing out of a pile of dirty medical clothes that it had apparently been using as a shelter. A sock caught in its mouth, the terrified creature dashed between Anna and Donnovan. The idiocy of the situation increased as the animal's foot caught the strap of a bag of looted psycho, but it continued on, unabated.

"Hey!" Anna yelled, as she and Donnovan gave chase. They rounded the hallway to see the tail of the molerat disappear down the staircase to the first floor. They followed at a full sprint, making their way down the steps four at a time. As they reached the landing at the base of the first floor, the molerat was nowhere in sight. At that moment, Glade came out of a side room, a heavy bag slung across his back. He paused, seeing Anna and Donnovan's darting eyes.

"The hell's with you two?" He asked.

"Did you see a molerat run by here?" Donnovan asked, somewhat cautiously, knowing the expedition's opinion of his recurring molerat sightings. "With a sock..." Donnovan muttered, knowing full well how stupid this sounded. "Dragging a bag of Psycho?" He added, putting his hand to his face and gripping the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.

Glade gave a lopsided grin. "No. But I did see a deathclaw, with underwear, holding a teddy bear."

Anna laughed while Donnovan simply glared at Glade with extreme dislike.


	32. Midwestern Misdemeanors

**Part 32 – Midwestern Misdemeanors**

"Hey, Hey…"

"Don't you damn say it."

"Don… Hey, Don."

"Don't."

"Hey, Don… Hey."

"No. Shut up."

"Hey… Hey, Don. Donny."

"Don't call me Donny, dude."

"Unlike Dorothy, we ARE in Kansas!"

"God dammit, Glade."

Donnovan shouldered his pack, readjusting where the straps pressured his shoulders as the expedition walked on. As Glade has indirectly stated, the expedition had crossed into Kansas several weeks ago. For once, the expedition had been able to travel for a long period of time without some sort of violent interruption. Though most of the group relished the peaceful break, several people had become visibly bored. Glade had resorted to pulling out every bad pun he could from literature and history. Being part of the Brotherhood, he was well-read, which gave him plenty of material… too much material, as far as the rest of the expedition was concerned. The Brotherhood had become a sort of family for Donnovan though, and Glade was like a brother. That being the case, Donnovan had more of a tolerance for Glade's idiocy than the rest of the expedition. To be fair, Donnovan did silently acknowledge that in the end, he was no better than Glade as far as the sporadic immature action or comment.

Dusk's sniper lessons had continued throughout the entire time, and Donnovan had improved greatly. His shot pattern was had gotten much tighter, and he had stopped jerking the rifle. He still needed work, his aim being off by a good twelve inches on the longer shots. He even had started competing with Dusk. Of course, she outclassed him completely every single time, and would for the rest of her days, but it was fun nevertheless. She had even gotten more lax on criticizing his molerat sightings.

"Try that rock over there."

"The one that looks like a molerat?"

"What…? How does that look like a molerat, Don?"

"I dunno… The end of it… Kind of."

"Just shoot."

"How was that?"

"Good. Now try shooting that moving target."

"What, that… uh… a… um…"

"No, that's not a molerat. It's a scorpion or something."

"Alright fine… And… Wooh! Bullseye."

"Nice job. You're out, here, reload."

"Alright. Just let me- what the hell is that way out there?"

"Now that, is a molerat."

"Son of a bitch..."

Since the loss of Cross, Donnovan had grown closer to Dusk as a mother figure. She was a treasure trove of sniper knowledge and skill. Beyond that, she usually kept him in line to some extent, though still having a tendency to fire off several witty insults herself. Not having known his mother, it was a comforting feeling for Donnovan, knowing someone was looking out for him. Her sniping lessons helped Donnovan take his mind off of his lethargy that was the result of his Med-X addiction. He had been actively fighting it with the help of Yearling, though it was still difficult.

Amata had grown more nervous, if that were possible. She had lost weight. Not much, but just barely enough to be noticeable. She also refused to sleep unless someone was either in the tent with her, or right next to it. Everyone had collectively decided that whoever was on night watch would be sitting right outside of Amata's tent when they weren't making their rounds.

Rockfowl was somehow different since the encounter with the adolescent ghouls. Though his calm demeanor mostly remained, Donnovan, who was sharing a tent with him, noticed a slightly unnerving change. Rockfowl would stare at the ceiling of the tent until he fell asleep every night. Though concerned for his friend, Donnovan knew better than to ask. Rockfowl usually liked to keep things to himself, and pressuring him would only make whatever was keeping him awake worse.

Morgan was scowling more often, tired of the eventless treks. To Donnovan, she was like an older sister. They both acted the same way, both tended to be irritable, and both liked discussing the finer points of literature. One other thing the two shared was a longing for some sort of activity, whether it be salvaging or a fight. She was obviously restless and had been toying with her assault rifle as she walked.

Lyons, being concerned about Amata, had taken to walking and talking with her. This visibly helped Amata. She was usually more relaxed when Sarah was walking with her. Her nervous eye darting and head twitching subsided when she was conversing with Lyons.

Olin and Yearling, finally having some time to speak, had connected over their mutual interest in sciences. Though both of them were knowledgeable in electronics and medicine, Olin was more of a gear head, while Yearling was the expedition's medic. They had been chatting and learning from each other during the expedition's last few peaceful weeks.

Morrill was his usual self, speaking only about their goals and moving on. He had been talking with Simon, however, the leader of the trio of mercenaries that had joined the expedition, more and more during the trip. Anna was being social with the entire group, especially Donnovan and Glade. Chase, meanwhile, kept mostly to himself, kicking rocks and taking potshots at random wildlife as they traveled. Most everyone had cautiously accepted the mercenaries into their group for the time being, except for Morgan. Though Simon got a pass in her eyes, she was extremely suspicious of Anna and Chase. For her, Chase was too slimy, while Anna's ebullient personality seemed to hide something.

Their travels took them deep into pre-War Kansas, and eventually, a town in the distance came into view. Morrill halted the expedition and gathered everyone around.

"What is our status?" Morrill asked.

"No one's too banged up." Yearling stated, looking around. "We could use a few more meds, though."

"We definitely need to restock our food." Lyons told everyone.

"I need .308 rounds, bad." Dusk stated, glancing at Donnovan, who on cue, took out his bag of caps.

"This one's on me. I've been shooting it more than you." Donnovan offered.

"Anyone else?" Morrill stated loudly. "I'd very much prefer keeping this small."

"Why?" Glade asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We haven't exactly had good luck with town the past few months, have we?" Lyons answered.

"Oh yeah."

"I'll go." Morgan stated. "I'm losing my mind just walking."

"Alright." Morrill agreed. "As far as lodging, I would very much suggest we not stay in the town."

"I need gun oil." Anna stated brightly, toying with the bolt on her Mp10.

"Hey. Let me take a look at that." Olin stated, walking up.

"Nah, I'm good." Anna stated rather defensively. "I'm kind of protective of my baby." She added with a laugh. It was at that moment that Anna turned around, Donnovan caught a glimpse of a black mark on her neck resembling what looked like a tree branch. He was about to ask her about this, but Morgan interrupted his thoughts.

"Let's head in. I'm getting Yearling's meds." She stated. Donnovan shook his head.

"Yeah, alright."

"Wait. I would like to suggest, nay, enforce something." Morrill put his hand up. "You wont find it agreeable, but it will have to do."

"Which is?" Morgan asked.

"No firearms."

"Oh come on." Donnovan protested, his hand subconsciously patting his holstered .44 magnum.

"Far too risky. Bring your knives or anything else, but no firearms. We haven't exactly been the best at avoiding conflict."

"Fine." Morgan stated bluntly, obviously unhappy as she handed over her assault rifle.

Donnovan tossed Glade is .44 revolver, then turned to Morgan.

"Let's roll."

.

.

.

The walk to the town lasted about fifteen minutes. Upon nearing the town entrance, a small poster stuck on the walls outside the town caught their attention. On closer examination, Donnovan cursed aloud. It was a wanted poster with three boxes, carrying a headline that read "Attention Citizens of Junction City. The following are wanted dead or alive by the Brotherhood of Steel". A surprisingly accurate sketch of Donnovan's face was on the far left. To the right of his space, there was a rough drawing of Olin's face. Furthest right was a space with a bulky outline drawn in it, a large question mark superimposed over it.

"That one's you, probably… This is not good." Donnovan muttered.

"No shit." Morgan stated, reaching up and pulling the hood under Donnovan's duster over his eyes. "Here." She handed Donnovan her pair of scouting goggles. "Put these on, it'll break up the consistency of your face. Keep the hood up."

"Can't we just head back and get the others to get the stuff?" Donnovan suggested.

"Doesn't matter. This means those bastards are somewhere nearby. Either way," Morgan explained, "we need to get in and get out, fast. Now come on."

Nervously, Donnovan nodded, and followed Morgan in through the town entrance, checking to make sure his hood was over his face. The city was bustling with travelers and traders. It reminded Donnovan of a larger Canterbury Commons with Megaton's cramped feel. Several sheet metal homes and shops had been erected next to old, standing pre-war apartment and plaza buildings. Individual structures and diners with party destroyed roofs were packed full of customers, and well-dressed but disheveled children ran here and there amongst the crowds.

"Excuse me. First aid?" Morgan asked a nearby man leaning against a street corner.

"You want Doc Hartman's place down the road." The man grunted, pointing to the west.

"How about ammunition?" Morgan pressed. "Namely rifle rounds."

"You want the Oleson Brothers' place, that way." The man pointed to the south, still without looking up.

"Let's go where each of us needs to." Morgan stated, looking at Donnovan. He glanced at her in concern. "Hey, come on. The faster we get done, the faster we can move on." She patted Donnovan's shoulder and set off down the street to the aforementioned doctor. Donnovan watched her go for a few seconds before becoming uncomfortably aware of the man attempting to see under his hood. With that, he quickly turned and, keeping his head down, set off in the direction of the weapon shop. He got there faster than he realized, most likely because he had been staring at the ground the entire trip. Before he knew it, he had almost run headlong into the door to the weapons shop.

A bell rung above his head as he stepped inside. Stacks of shelves were spaced evenly, taking up most of the floor and giving the shop a overcrowded feel. Rifles of all sorts were stacked haphazardly all over the store. Over in the corner, sunlight streamed through a small window, and a cone of fine dust could be seen falling to the floor. Donnovan slowly walked up to the front counter, behind which an older man was seated. An ancient-looking rifle lay on the table in front of him, its bolt and trigger taken out. The old man was hunched over it, examining the stock through an eyepiece.

"Excuse me, sir?" Donnovan asked. The man looked up, briefly jumping.

"My goodness, young man." he stated, a slight southern twang in his voice. "With that hood, I thought you were one of them robe-wearing weirdos. What can I help you with?"

"That rifle…" Donnovan stated. "What is it?"

"Ah, you have an eye for quality." The man nodded. "This rifle is rather old. It was manufactured a long time ago, even talkin' in pre-War terms. It's called a Mosin-Nagant."

"I see. What is the caliber?"

"7.62. It's a beauty, isn't it? It was invented in a pre-War country called 'Russia', apparently at the outset of World War II."

"I've heard-" Donnovan caught himself, remembering Lyons' expression when he had almost told Anna bout his origins. "nothing like that before."

"Yes, not many people have." The old man nodded sadly. "There's very few that know the history of firearms… Very sad… Anyway, what can I do fer you?"

"That wanted poster outside of town… Does the Brotherhood come here often?"

"Not too often." The man responded, putting his eyepiece down on the counter. "They do have an outpost somewhere in the area, though."

"I see…" Donnovan stated, his mind trailing off.

He continued his conversation with the shopkeeper about the area. The topics ranged from the local flora and fauna, to the Brotherhood, to trade routes. Finally, the man finally got down to business.

"So are you here to buy, or…?" The man prompted, with amusement rather than rudeness.

"Oh, right." Donnovan shook his head, remembering that he was in a bit of a time crunch. "I'm looking for some .308 ammo. Do you sell it?"

"Of course I do, son." The man answered. "I'm rather short at the moment, though. Only one ammo box."

"As in, military ammo box or small cardboard box?"

"Them green, metal ones. 250 rounds to a box."

"Really? That works. Can I grab that one?"

"350 caps, young man."

"Here you are, sir."

"You have a nice day, now."

Donnovan took his freshly purchased ammunition, and was already out the door of the shop, when something the old man said suddenly clicked in his head.

_"Robe-wearing weirdos…!"_ he thought. _"Is that the c-?"_

Donnovan was just about to turn back into the shop, when he saw something down the street that made his heart stop. Three Midwestern Brotherhood soldiers in full power armor were slowly making their way up the street towards him. They were stopping anyone who didn't look busy and briefly speaking with them, before moving on.

Trying to be as discreet as possible, Donnovan turned and walked down the street, away from the soldiers, only to come face to face with a dead end. He turned around slowly, to see the Midwesterners still approaching, and his mind began to race. He walked to one side of the street, attempting to find some other shop he could duck into, but everything was boarded up or closed. As the Midwesterners drew within 20 meters, he felt panic rising in his chest. Before he could make another move, however, a figure slid out from a side-alley he had missed, and threw its arms around his neck.

"Just go with it." Anna whispered, pressing her lips to his as the Midwesterners were approaching, now no more than ten feet from them.

"Enough, we can't keep coming back this often." One of them stated, his voice sounding metallic through his armor.

"We can't give up, though." The second one stated.

"But we shouldn't be coming back every day, either. We're not on overly friendly terms with these people. Besides, we have a meeting to get to that might actually come through for once."

With that, they turned and left, marching down the street, away from Donnovan and Anna. She withdrew from him, watching the soldier walk away.

"Wanna tell me how you got in trouble with them?"

"How do you-?"

"I was watching you try to avoid them." Anna giggled. "It was like watching a ghoul trying to find a way out a subway system."

"You followed m-" Donnovan began, but was interrupted as Anna pulled him down the side alley from which she had appeared.

"Let's go. No more staying here." Donnovan, still slightly floored by Anna's appearance and sudden kiss, let himself be led through the city, until they ended up outside of a second gate.

"Shit. This isn't the way I came in." Donnovan glanced back into the city.

"This way," Anna stated, leading him down a small hill into a set of rocky outcroppings nearby. She leaned back out, scanning the area. "Well, they're not leaving through there. At least I hope not."

"How did you find me?" Donnovan asked. "More to the point, why?"

"Because you and your friend are worth a hell of a lot of money." A familiar voice spoke. Donnovan turned to find himself facing Chase's shotgun and Simon's M4.

"Here, Anna." Simon stated, tossing the girl her Mp10.

"The fuck is this!" Donnovan asked, bewildered. Chase brought Olin out from behind a cluster of rocks. She was gagged and her hands bound. She was sitting on the ground, tears streaming down her face. Donnovan realized what had occurred almost immediately as Chase patted him down, found Donnovan's knife, and dropped it to the dirt along with the box of .308 ammunition. "Son of a bitch… You're going for the bounty, aren't you?"

"The Brotherhood put a price on your heads weeks ago." Simon explained. "Come to think of it, I believe they informed us that it was the very day you and your blonde friend here escaped from them."

"So why didn't you just get us right away?" Donnovan asked.

"We were going to take our time." Anna stated, pressing the barrel of the gun against the back of Donnovan's head. "We were hoping the price would go up. After I saw the wanted posters, though, I knew we had to get you before anyone else did."

"That whole town's full of mercenaries and bounty hunters." Chase grinned. "Too risky to wait anymore."

"Wait a minute…" Anna suddenly interrupted. Her eyes were examining the bolt of her submachine gun. "This is much cleaner…" Her eyes snapped up and onto Olin. "Move that rag out of her mouth. Simon looked surprised.

"Why?"

"Just do it." Anna stated, her gleeful expression suddenly hardening into a blank stare. Simon did as requested, and almost immediately, Anna asked Olin the question that was on her mind. "Did you do something to my gun before Chase grabbed you?"

"Yeah… Yeah…" She stated. Her confidence that she had gained since the forest of ash was gone, replaced by a look of utter fear. "Cleaned it and upgraded the bolt." She was speaking in fragments. "Faster firing. Much cleaner. Better round velocity…"

"Why?" Anna asked, her expression blank, though somehow very intimidating. "Speak clearly."

"Since you were with us, I figured I'd be nice and help somewhat." Olin explained, barely managing to speak. Anna wordlessly examined the gun.

"Okay…" She spoke up. "Simon, you already contacted the Brotherhood?"

"Yes I have." Simon nodded. "They'll be waiting for us just down that path through the rocks."

"Well, shall we get moving?" Anna asked, her stare now even worrying her companions slightly.

"You alright?" Chase asked, concerned.

"I'm fine. I just want to finish with this." Anna retorted, pushing Donnovan forward next to Olin, past Simon and Chase.

"Get a move on, fuckers." Chase grunted, prodding Donnovan with his shotgun. Donnovan gave him a glare before helping Olin to her feet and walking her forward.

"What are we going to do?" Olin asked, desperation in her eyes.

"I have no idea…" Donnovan trailed off, wondering if this was truly the end.

"I can't believe this…" Olin hiccupped. "Why is this happening?"

"Can't believe we let them travel with us." Donnovan grunted bitterly. "Should've known better." He was particularly angry with himself for being so distracted by Anna's looks, now that he knew she had only been using them to lull him into a false sense of security.

They had walked only several meters along the path, when a burst of gunfire directly behind them rang through their ears. They both whirled around in time to see Simon drop to the ground. At that very moment, another burst punctuated the air, and a red mist erupted from Chase's torso. He looked down at the blood flowing freely through his wounds.

"Oh, damn."

His legs gave out and he crumpled to the ground, revealing Anna standing behind him, her Mp10 raised.

"What… What…!" Donnovan glanced at the two dead mercenaries.

"That was why I don't like people doing me favors, Olin." Anna said. Her flirtatious attitude was gone, as was her smile. The expression on her face was that of a hardened veteran of the wastes. "I can't help but assist them in return."

"But… But they were your friends!" Olin whimpered, looking in terror at the bodies of Simon and Chase.

"Friends? Psh, hardly." She snorted. "I met them a few days before the Brotherhood posted the bounty. Found out enough about their past. Wasn't exactly hard." Anna indicated the leather armor that hugged her body tightly. "Anyway, they were just assets to me… Disposable assets."

"W-w-what the hell is wrong with you?" Donnovan asked, rooted in place.

"I've learned to get by on my own, Donnovan." Anna answered, tilting her head to the side. "I left the company after I realized I could make more on my own, using all of my assets for my own gain, guns and otherwise. You should have figured that out by now, with the way I was acting around you."

"Wait… Left what company?" Olin asked.

Anna looked to her right, craning her neck so that Donnovan and Olin could see the back of it. She raised her hair. A four-toed black claw was tattooed on her skin.

"Talon Company? Holy shit…" Donnovan grunted.

"Talon Company." Anna repeated.

There were several seconds of silence.

"Uh… What happens now…? Are you still bringing us in to the Midwesterners?"

"No, no. As I said, I return favors. Olin improved my gun greatly, so in turn, I'm letting you go."

"You're serious…?" Donnovan gaped. "After killing those two?"

"I may be a heartless bitch," Anna raised an eyebrow, her face still completely blank, "but I do go by some sort of code. If not, I probably would have died a long time ago. Besides, do you really think I could've convinced these two to let you go freely?"

"What about your payment, though?" Olin asked in utter disbelief.

"Simon and this idiot probably have enough caps on them to tide me over." Anna stated. "Now go. The Brotherhood will be here any minute and will probably be wondering what those shots were."

"Just like that?" Donnovan asked.

"Just like that." Anna stated, repeating after him again. "I need to leave the area for a while myself, what with the Brotherhood expecting you to be delivered. Know this, however." Anna warned. "We are now even, as far as I'm concerned. If you come through this territory again, and your heads still have a price on them… I will come for you."

"I'll keep that in mind." Donnovan stated, his nerves finally calming down. With that, Anna turned and walked up the path back into Junction City, leaving a bewildered Donnovan and Olin looking at each other in confusion.

They slowly made their way back up the path in silence, Donnovan picking up his knife and box of ammunition.

"Now what?" Olin asked, regaining composure.

"Let's just get back to the camp. Morgan probably already made it there." Donnovan muttered, looking up the path that Anna had taken back into the town.

"Sure, right…" Olin sighed. "Can you… Not tell the others I was crying a bit?" She smiled awkwardly.

"Gladly. Just don't tell Glade that I was suckered in by that bitch?" Donnovan tossed his head in the direction of Junction City. "He'll never let me hear the end of it."

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.

.

"I had a bad feeling about her…" Morgan shook her head.

"She just gunned them down!" Lyons was aghast.

"Yeah, just like that. Can we go now, please?" Donnovan stated. "I'm really sick of dealing with people in general right now."

"I'll bet you're bummed you couldn't hit that," Glade state, trying to keep a grin from forming on his face.

"Glade… I swear to God." Donnovan grunted, glancing at Olin.

"I didn't say anything, don't look at me." Olin put her hands up, defensively.

"As if it wasn't obvious." Glade laughed. "I think I was right about earlier. Keeping with that, that Anna chick's the wicked bitch of the post-nuclear West."

"What's that make you, the brainless scarecrow?" Donnovan raised an eyebrow.

"Sure, but in that case, you're Dorothy." Glade laughed. "Lost in your imagination."

"Shit." Donnovan stated, realizing he had set himself up. "Dude, whatever, let's just move on."

"No prob, Dorothy. Your ruby slippers on tight enough?"

"I hate you so much, Glade."

**Author's Note: ****I apologize for how long this series has stayed silent. Between classes and work, I have not had much time to write. When time opened up, I made excuses for myself instead of getting back to the story. Now that I have, I realize how big of a moron I am for not getting back to this sooner, as I absolutely love writing this tale. I'll try to update more frequently from here on out. I'd also like to take this moment to thank Vaultboy101 for catching a confusing error that I missed completely. Either way, I hope to be back and writing more frequently. I made this chapter much longer than usual in order to kind of make up for my absence. Thanks for reading this story, ladies and gentlemen. It's great to see your reviews and subscriptions. I greatly appreciate it.**


	33. Changed Expectations

**Part 33 – Changed Expectations**

After the fiasco in Junction City, and Donnovan's tendency to get in trouble, the Corps agreed to camp outside any other settlements they came across. Much to Donnovan's protests, the buyers for the rest of their trip would be Lyons and Rockfowl, as they were the most level-headed of the group. The discussion was rather pointless in the end, as there was almost no real civilization for weeks after. They only traveled through several smaller settlements, which seem to get increasingly smaller as they went on. With Dogtown being further west, it took the Corps several weeks of traveling through rough terrain until they reached the border of pre-War Colorado. They had been warned by travelers and traders that Colorado had been Legion territory for the past few months. This was the subject of conversation a particular night. Stars dotted the clear sky like diamonds on a blue canvas. The night air was cool and crisp, and the lack of wind was an unfamiliar feeling for the Corps, who had grown accustomed to the windswept expanses of the Capital Wasteland. A peaceful darkness had settled in around them. The members of the expedition who had not gone to sleep yet were gathered around a roaring fire, courtesy of Olin and Rockfowl.

"I really don't know the status of Dogtown." Lyons was saying thoughtfully, her thumb to her lips as she sat on the ground next to the fire. "I've heard about as much as you, Donnovan."

"Well, from the information that we managed to glean from those mercenaries and the stories of the travelers, we know that this Caesar's Legion is a formidable force." Morrill shared his thoughts.

"At least they don't attack couriers," Glade yawned, stretching out on the ground.

Donnovan had been lying on a blanket he had unfurled on the ground next to the fire, propped up and using his backpack as a rest for his head and shoulders. He held a paper attached to a clipboard in front of him, reading over it. A pen was in his right hand, his teeth lightly gnawing on an end of it. He briefly tilted his head to add his two cents to the conversation his companions were having.

"Yeah, but we're not couriers. We don't know how these Caesar's Legion guys are going to react to us."

"They can't have not met us yet… There's no way." Glade sat up.

"What do you mean, "us"?" Sarah asked, glancing at him. "We were disowned by the Brotherhood leadership, remember? As far as they, and those Midwesterners are concerned, we're our own little group."

"I do agree on that point." Morrill nodded. "For once, I will say that the Brotherhood's original views wouldn't exactly match with those of this Legion."

"We didn't exactly mesh with N.C.R. either, Morrill." Lyons pointed out, running her hand through her hair. "I'm telling you, these old views you and the others hang on to will only lead to problems."

"We will continue to disagree on that point, I'm afraid." Morrill frowned. "Our mission has always been to collect technology, taking it by force if we have to, from those who cannot understand it."

"Yes, because that 'no tech in the hands of lesser people' view we've held onto did a whole lot in the war against the NCR." Lyons stated, her voice thick with sarcasm, something rare for her.

"The NCR has annexed territories, so they aren't necessarily correct in their own right." Morrill countered.

"I'm not saying the NCR are perfect," Lyons frowned. "Come on, though. The old views have done more to cripple the Brotherhood than help it. The NCR only managed to edge out the Brotherhood because of how selective we are in our membership."

"I'm with Lyons on this one, I gotta say." Donnovan spoke up again, pausing from his writing. "All the tech in the world doesn't mean shit against numbers. From the sound of it, the NCR isn't exactly lacking in manpower."

"What are you writing, anyway, Don?" Glade asked.

"Oh." Donnovan looked back at the paper. "A letter."

"To whom, that blondie who stole your heart?" Glade teased.

"You mean your mother?" Donnovan said. "In that case, yeah."

"Fuck off." Glade laughed. "But seriously."

"It's a letter to Shorik back in New Jerusalem." Donnovan said.

"Wait, wait…" A grin appeared on Glade's face. "So you deny writing to the blonde chick, and say your writing to that dude in New Jerusalem? That's kind of gay."

"Glade, for fuck's sake…"

"Fine, fine. Go on." Glade snickered.

"It's about Ishmael." Donnovan explained.

"Oh yeah, Dusk was saying something about that." Glade commented.

"Yeah. As big of an asshole as he was, I still owe him for saving my ass." Donnovan stated, scratching his forehead. "I figure sending a letter explaining what happened is the least I can do."

"You should've tried sending it back in Junction City." Dusk stated, walking into the firelight, rubbing her eyes.

"I was kind of preoccupied…" Donnovan grunted, returning his attention to writing the letter.

"Well, I know New Caanan is an ideal place for everything: trade, couriers, repairs…" Dusk yawned, sitting down next to Glade. "We're more than a month away, though.

"At least." Lyons stated. She turned to Morrill. "Where were we?"

"I forget as well." Morrill chuckled. "It was obvious we did not agree."

"It's not like we're going to split up over it again, are we?" Glade asked. "I mean, we're doing what both of us want now, so that should work, right?"

"I have already told you, my friend, that we agreed to Elder Lyons' new terms." Morrill smiled warmly, the first time he had done so in a while. "We may still have our disagreements, but as everyone is working on the goals they want, there is no problem. We will not split over something so trivial again."

"And hell, if there were no tiny arguments, it'd be boring." Glade added.

A snort directed their attention to the trail, several yards away. They had camped out just off of the main path leading from a small town As this territory was mostly safe for travelers and traders, they had finally been able to rest. Between their discussions they had been observing the passing traders. The most recent one was dressed in a large cloth trench coat, a wide-brimmed hat, and tall cowboy boots. The Brahmin next to him was loaded down with goods, which explained the snorting, and two fierce looking dogs flanked the pack beast on either side. The man turned, revealing a small goatee and a thick mustache.

"Hola, mi amigos!" He called, seeing the group watching him.

"What'd he say?" Donnovan looked at Lyons. "I got 'amigos', but that's it."

"How the hell do you know "amigo" but not "hola?"" Glade raised an eyebrow.

"Something about the Mexican-America War in the Vault history books." Donnovan shrugged.

"How are you?" The man asked loudly in a thick Spanish accent.

"Not too bad sir, and yourself?" Lyons called out. "Where are you headed?"

"Into the dog pit." He smiled. "I have supplies to deliver to the camps."

"Wait, you're going into Dogtown?" Donnovan sat up.

"Si," The man looked confused.

"We heard that it was completely under Legion control." Lyons said.

"How long have you been gone from this area?" The man asked, a confused look on his face.

"Long enough… About twenty years…" Lyons answered him. The man looked floored.

"Dios mio…" He shook his head. "You have missed quite a bit."

"Would we… be able to borrow you for a few moments?" Lyons asked hopefully.

"Of course, my brahmin needs to eat anyway." He smiled. With that, the man led his animals over to the camp.

"Don! Hood!" Dusk hissed. Before he could react, Olin had pulled the hood over Donnovan's eyes as the man came to their fire.

After he had set the Brahmin up with its food, the trader seated himself between Lyons and Morrill.

"You were surprisingly easy to convince." Lyons stated, slightly taken aback.

"Well, there are no raiders in this area anymore, thanks to the Midwestern Brotherhood." He explained. "Only merchants, couriers, and mercenaries."

"No shit," Donnovan muttered so that only Olin could hear. She surreptitiously elbowed him.

"So we've heard." Lyons said darkly. "We would like to know a few things about the road ahead. We'd be willing to share our food for the night."

"Sounds fair, gracias!" The man nodded brightly as Glade passed him a small tin of beans, cram, and some bits of brahmin they had bought in Junction City. "I am Armando, I am a trader."

"My name is Sarah," Lyons said, indicating herself, then pointing to the others. "That's Morrill, she's Dusk, that big guy over there is Glade. Hey, you two!"

"Oh… Sorry, Olin." The Outcast Specialist stated, then elbowed Donnovan.

"I'm…" Donnovan paused for a moment, the wanted poster with his face on it briefly flashing across his thoughts. "Butch… Butch DeLoria."

Lyons, Morrill, Dusk, and Olin showed no emotion, while Glade bore an extremely wide grin that reminded Donnovan of the smile he had accidentally torn on the face of a ghoul down in the Tenleytown Station tunnel back in D.C. Armando had nodded to every person as they were introduced or introduced themselves.

"We're wondering what the road was like up ahead. Mainly, we're interested in Dogtown and New Canaan, in particular." Lyons offered.

"No New Vegas?" Armando smiled.

"Eventually, but New Vegas we can worry about later. I'm very concerned from what I've heard about Dogtown."

"What have you heard?" Armando asked through a mouthful of beans.

"That Colorado is Legion territory. That it's dangerous." Lyons stated.

"Well," Armando stated, pausing to swallow a mouthful of food "the Legion's hold on Colorado isn't as strong as they'd like everyone to think. One of Caesar's commanders, Lanius, tried rolling through there."

"What happened?" Lyons asked.

"The city… He only surrounded it. Most of the soldiers he sent in were ripped apart." Armando stated.

"Ripped apart?" Dusk looked surprised.

"Dogtown." Armando emphasized the name. "Wild perros run around everywhere. Plenty of other animales, too."

"But we've heard there's an actual town there." Lyons pressed.

"What the hell's a perro?" Donnovan silently mouthed to Olin, who raised an eyebrow at him.

"I didn't say there wasn't." Armando stated brightly, answering Lyons. "A bunch of salvager camps sort of came together, threw some bridges to each other. That's modern Dogtown."

"Wait, wait, wait…" Donnovan sat up, the hood over his head hiding his eyes. "The Legion can't have just abandoned Dogtown."

"They pretty much did." Armando shrugged. "At first they left a small group in the city. There was a problemo, though."

"What kind of…" Donnovan hesitated. "Problemo?"

"A bunch of mercs were running around, causing them trouble. Picking off their troops. Stranding whole groups of Legionaries in the streets where they were torn apart by the perros."

"I see…" Morrill nodded.

"Seriously, what the fuck's a perro?" Donnovan whispered to Olin.

"It's a dog, Don." Olin stated, her eyebrows raised and a slight grin on her face.

"Some say they're locals," Armando went on. "Others say they're with the N.C.R. I think it's a bit of both."

"Fuck… Well… Is it safe?" Glade asked.

"Dogtown? Mostly." Armando nodded. "It's getting there that's the problem."

"How so?" Morrill asked.

"The camps, and the town, is set up on the rooftops of the old skyscrapers." Armando stated with a sly smile.

Several seconds of ringing silence followed this statement.

"Damn…" Donnovan grunted.

"So how the hell do you get up there?" Glade asked.

"Several ways. There are staircases inside, some parts broken, but they still work." Armando explained. "Your Brahmin will be a problemo."

"There's no other way?" Lyons asked.

"They did have a big elevator for deliveries in one of the buildings, but it broke down years ago."

"Don't people who have the knowledge to fix the elevator at least pass through?" Morrill suggested.

"They do, but the problem's on the ground floor… Where the dogs can reach." Armando shook his finger in the air.

"How are we gonna get our Brahmin and 'bots through?" Glade looked from Lyons to Morrill.

"Not sure."

"Any way to fix that elevator?" Morrill asked for ideas.

"Please, boss." Olin smiled. "Bring on whatever pre-war tech is running that mechanical deathtrap."

"That's… not very reassuring." Donnovan stated, some slight concern in his voice.

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The settlements on the way to their Dogtown destination were small towns and villages, with not much to offer in the way of trade besides food and common ammunition. This greatly disappointed Glade, who had wanted to buy parts for his shotgun.

After their conversation with the friendly trader name Armando, the group had followed his suggestions, and sure enough, had gotten through eastern pre-war Colorado three days earlier than they had expected. Regardless, the expedition had collectively decided to push on to try to reach Dogtown. The warning Armando had given them had left a strange impression on the group. Because it was such a dangerous trip with their Brahmin and robots, instead of postponing the journey as long as possible, they had hastened, wanting to get the difficult part over with. It was strange how much the expedition's demeanor had changed since they left D.C. those many months ago. It started out as an entertaining journey with friends, and had turned into a somber march through the dead remains of what had formerly been the greatest country in the world (at least according to the propaganda posters that were plastered all over D.C.).

But for now, their reminiscing would have to wait. The expedition stood on the crest of a hill, their backs to the rays of sunlight breaking over the rocky horizon as they looked down upon the dry, crumbling ruins that were the remains of the pre-war city of Denver. Twisted metal hulks of metal and stone of what were formerly skyscrapers stretched upwards, reaching to the heavy, grey clouds that hung in the scorched, brown sky. Down in the rubble-choked streets below, bombed out cars dotted the cracked cement roads. Several thin, sagging lines could be seen connecting the tops of skyscrapers. These were the makeshift bridges connecting the ragged salvager camps that, in combination, made up the settlement known as Dogtown. This haphazard town was the temporary destination of the Corps of Rediscovery.

As they stood, tracing the path they would take through the urban jungle with their eyes, smiles crept up on the faces of several members of the expedition. At long last, this was something they were very familiar with. They were no strangers to this chaotic, urban setting, having been baptized in the blood of comrade and super mutant alike in the ruins of D.C. The Corps of Rediscovery had traveled through dust-choked canyons, charred forests, vast expanses of arid land, and rocky canyons, losing friends all along the way. The mostly numb, emotionless mood of the East Coast Brotherhood of Steel and their newly reconnected Outcast companions shifted. Finally, they felt a surge of empowerment and confidence in the road ahead. Though there would be plenty more canyons and hills to trek though, it didn't matter. As more burned out cities would crop up in their path, their mood would improve. This was their forte, and was a sign of their destination coming ever nearer.


	34. Urban Jungle

**Part 34 – Urban Jungle**

The howling of the wind seemed to increase down in the streets, wrapping around buildings and buffeting the expedition as they moved through the city. This was no bother for them. Everyone who had power armor, was geared up, and Olin, Amata, and Yearling were wearing extra layers. The expedition moved quickly, used to urban rubble. Donnovan took in the dry, cracked pavement and shells of buildings, happy to be in familiar territory again. Though the streets seemed to stretch on forever, they had located the building that was their destination. Olin, though seemingly as calm as anyone else, was staring straight ahead. Whether or not the entire expedition would live or die now rested on her technological know-how, and she knew this full well. She continued to mull this over as the expedition stood in the middle of an intersection, pausing to make sure they were going the right way. The wind howled between them and around their armor as they stood out in the open, examining their surroundings.

To their sides, endless streets seemed to fall away into the decaying urban mess, husks of cars and old shops lining the streets. Ahead of them lay their destination, the lobby of the massive Republic Plaza skyscraper. Somewhere through the back hallways, a massive service elevator was hidden, which would fit the expedition's robots and Brahmin.

Donnovan slowly made his way to the front of the expedition, past Glade, who was standing to the right of the expedition's only remaining Brahmin. He was scanning the street for any movement, his power fist over his right hand, his sawed-off shotgun in the other.

"Morrill, we have to keep moving." Donnovan muttered, looking down the streets perpendicular of the expedition's path of travel.

"I have just realized that going straight through the doors might not be the best option." Morrill stated, his voice lower than usual.

"Come on, we have to get off of the streets."

"What's the hold up?" Morgan found her way to Donnovan and Morrill.

"I am convinced that if we take a side entrance, we will find the service elevator much more quickly." Morrill explained.

"You're just thinking of this now?" Morgan hissed, annoyed.

Then, from far down the street to their left, something moved. A medium-size, emaciated dog came trotting out of a decimated shop, sniffing around the ground. Its brown fur was tangled and matted to its body. Slowly, it made several haphazard circles, its breathing sending tiny clouds of dust in the air from the pavement. Then, as if in slow motion, the dog froze. It lifted its head slowly and froze, its nose pointing directly at the gathered expedition. One ear went flat against its head and its tail shot up straight into the air.

"No…" Donnovan heard Amata whisper in fright. "No… No… Nonononono."

The dog threw its head back and let lose an echoing howl that resounded off of the hollowed out buildings. Without waiting another moment, the dog charged forward, scrapes punctuating every time its paws hit the pavement. It charged closer and closer, veering slightly to the left and going for the Brahmin. It closed the distance to the expedition surprisingly fast, launching itself at the pack Brahmin, which gave a strangled cry of terror. However, Glade stopped the attack in mid-air.

A massive pneumatic hiss could be heard, followed by a sickening crunch as the dog came into contact with Glade's power fist. The dog's spine ploughed forward with the force, collapsing in on itself. The animal fell roughly to the pavement, dead before it hit the ground.

There was no time to celebrate, however, as any good feeling the expedition had was immediately drowned out by a chorus of howls reaching their ears.

"No time to discuss it now, let's fucking go!" Donnovan yelled.

"I agree, MOVE OUT!" Morrill commanded, grabbing the Brahmin by the reigns and sprinting forward. The rest of the expedition haphazardly followed suit, stumbling slightly over each other as they moved forward. As they picked up speed, Donnovan noticed movement at the ends of alleyways and in nearby streets. Howls and pitter patter of feet seemed to surround them as they made their way forward. The floor-to-ceiling windows of the Republic Plaza lobby were mostly broken, and the entryway had been bombed out, bits of rubble littering the street in front of it.

The expedition managed to get their brahmin and robots through the entryway just as dogs began appearing from seemingly everywhere: down streets, out of shops, from the inside of cars.

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From somewhere inside a nearby, smaller skyscraper, four individuals were watching the expedition's struggles.

"They're gonna get themselves killed." A young woman with tangled, blue-dyed hair muttered, peering through the scope of a sniper rifle and the wild dogs converged onto the expedition like ants. There was a red flash from the rifle of one of the power armored soldiers that turned a charging dog into a pile of ash.

"Their power armor's protecting them." Another man grunted, binoculars to his eyes.

"Brotherhood pricks don't deserve that armor." A third one grunted. "You know they-"

"Shut the hell up, Caleb. You have a problem with everything, we know." The second man snapped irritably. "Either way, that's some nice armor."

"Not all of them have it…" A fourth man stated in almost a whisper, focusing on the three figures in robes and traveling gear, each of whom were being protected by one of the armored individuals.

"Who the hell are these guys?" The second man wondered as the group in the streets below finally disappeared into the Republic Plaza, a burst of AK-47 fire punctuating the air. The dogs poured in after them, and more gunfire could be heard, mixing with the dying yelps of the canines. "That armor's nice." He stood up and stretched. "Well, there goes our entertainment for today. Ready to head back, Kelly?"

"I guess." She yawned, standing up and removing the rifle from its rest on the windowsill. "We'll have to get down there before the Legion guys do to get that armor when they die. Or if, I guess."

"Spade?" Caleb asked.

The fourth man leaned quietly in the corner, not moving from his spot. He glanced at his companions before shifting his eyes back to the streets.

"It's not over, Strelok."

"Yeah it is… They're not gonna get through. There's just the busted elevator down there." Kelly frowned.

"Yeah, even if they did, they have way too much cargo with them." Strelok added.

A full minute of silence followed. Kelly and Strelok glanced at each other awkwardly, wondering what to do next, while Caleb simply stared at Spade in annoyance.

"There…" Spade pointed as another burst of rifle fire could be heard, and bits of cement came flying up from the pavement where stray bullets had impacted. Strelok, Kelly, and Chase sprinted up to the window in time to see two power armored figures come sprinting out of the lobby, one armed with an AK-47, the other with an AER9 laser rifle.

"Wait… What happened to the rest?" Kelly asked. Her question seemed to be answered as a low whine resonated through the streets, followed by a heavy metal grinding. "Is that… the elevator?" Her jaw dropped as the figures disappeared below them.

"Screw the elevator, those two are coming this way!" Caleb exclaimed, pushing away from the windowsill and sprinting out of the room. Strelok nodded to Kelly, and the two jogged after Caleb, Spade following shortly after.

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"I'm telling you, we might be better off than they are." Donnovan panted as he shoved the door to the fire stairwell closed and latched it. Seconds later, the sound of bodies hitting it echoed up the stairwell as the dogs threw themselves at the door.

"How so?" Lyons stated, looking up at him incredulously.

"Why do you think Olin said we were too heavy?" Donnovan straightened up, still breathing hard. "I'm thinking Rockfowl should've gone with us."

"But why? We all could've fit in that elevator." Lyons argued.

"Yeah… And the cable could've broken. Did you hear how it freakin' creaked when Morrill stepped on in front of us?" Donnovan explained. "It's a cargo elevator, but remember how long that trader… friggin'… Amigo, or whatever, said it was out of use?"

"Armando." Lyons raised an eyebrow. "But okay, you've made your point." A muffled bark came through the door.

Donnovan removed the clip from his rifle, checking it.

"Shit… I've got, like, 14 rounds left." Donnovan grumbled. "One of the bots has all of my other ones…"

"Laser rifle, Don." Lyons stated, hefting her weapon. "I've got plenty of ammo."

"Point taken. Now how do we get up?" Donnovan asked, looking at the base of the fire escape stairs, the first flight of which had been knocked out. He glanced up at the fire escape, flights of stairs shooting up for every story of the building.

"Well, not the handrail." Lyons stated, indicating the only remaining piece of the destroyed segment of the staircase.

"Why not?" Donnovan stated, walking forward. Lyons threw her arm out.

"We're too heavy." Lyon stated. "You probably haven't heard that a lot." She added, attempting to keep from cracking a smile. Sarah only seemed to drop her formal attitude only when away from the rest of the expedition. Glade had mentioned that Lyons had cracked a joke when they had been on patrol the other day, but he hadn't believed it.

"Here." Donnovan stated, walking up and propping himself against the wall, knees bent. "I'll give you a boost."

"Right." Lyons nodded, walking toward him.

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"You do realize that we have to be really close to do anything to them, right?" Strelok pointed out. "That's some serious shit they're wearing." He and his companions were moving quickly past the overturned desks and broken shelves, trying to head off the two strangers they had seen enter their building.

"It's probably no different than any other power armor." Kelly whispered as they moved towards the fire stairwell door on their floor. "Go for the eyes or the gap between the crotch and thigh."

"We don't know if they're dangerous," Spade said quietly, his voice steady and unwavering.

"They're Brotherhood. Fuck 'em." Chase commented.

"Yeah, or they could charge in and kill all of us." Strelok retorted sarcastically. "Since nothing we're wearing can stop a laser or a freakin' AK round, I say we just shoot the bastards."

"I'm with you." Kelly stated, loading several armor piercing rounds into her rifle. "Really wish I had my .50."

"Those work against power armor?" Strelok asked, indicating the .308 rounds.

"If it's a clean shot, kind of." Kelly said regretfully. "It'll have to do, though."

"I don't think we should shoot them." Spade spoke up again. "I really don't think they're going to kill us."

"Ssssssh." Kelly threw her arm out and listened intently… "They're coming up."

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The elevator shuddered as the old cables pulled it up the shaft, the lights flickering, causing the entire expedition to be frozen with anticipation.

"I don't like this… I don't like this…" Amata was whispering to herself, shaking with fear in the corner. Olin, nervous herself, pulled Amata into a hug as the elevator rose to the top of the massive Republic Plaza. Thanks to her, and to Rockfowl for literally kicking a dog out of mid air that had leapt at her, she managed to fix the elevator. The problem was surprisingly simple: two blown fuses and some wiring, which she had replaced by sacrificing the expedition's last protectron. Apparently, Armando the trader hadn't exaggerated when he mentioned the difficulty the townsfolk here must have had in trying to fix the elevator. Skeletons were strewn in front of the doorways, the remains of travelers who had tried to fix the elevator but had been overcome by the dogs. To add to this, the expedition had left almost two dozen dead canines in their wake. Overwhelming firepower and technology apparently could win over superior numbers, something that Morrill would be sure to tell Lyons when, and if he ever saw her again.

The others were silent, gripping the robots and pack Brahmin tightly, hoping that the cable would hold out.

Rockfowl's head was hung, eyes closed, his hands gripping the edge of one of the expedition's two cargo sentry bots.

Morgan stared at the ceiling of the elevator, her assault rifle hanging loosely in her hands.

Morrill simply stood at the front of the elevator, unmoving.

Glade and Dusk nervously nodded to each other every few seconds, hoping the moment would soon pass.

Yearling had busied herself with the straps on the packs of the brahmin for lack of a better idea.

The trip seemed to take an eternity, but before the members of the expedition could clear their thoughts, the elevator abruptly stopped. The doors shook, opening with a grinding sound to reveal a rooftop, a gray sky, and dozens of shocked and surprised individuals.

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"This is idiotic." Donnovan gasped, resting his back against a door which was marked '15'.

"I think we can rest for a moment." Lyons coughed, out of breath herself.

"Should we see if there's another way up? This is insane. Besides, they probably have the top door bolted." Donnovan said, straightening up.

"I don't know." Lyons stated irritably. "There are still more than ten stories to go."

Donnovan smacked the back of his head against the doorway in frustration. He turned to look through the window of the door, trying to distract himself with something, and immediately pushed away.

The sudden crack of a rifle was followed by a round impacting with the window, which exploded into shards and rained over Donnovan and Lyons. Another crack followed, and Donnovan felt an impact in his armor, which sent him flying backwards, landing on his bottom on the stair floor. The bullet had mushroomed into itself and was now lying several inches away, having bounced off of his armor, leaving a sizeable impression.

"Urggh." He exhaled from the impact, "I think I broke a rib." He added, examining the hole the bullet had punched in the doorway. Lyons had pushed herself against the wall. She stretched forward, shoved the barrel of her laser rifle through the shattered window, and sent several bursts of blindfire into the room. A heavy thud could be heard, followed by a female voice.

"Spade! You okay?"

"I'm fine!" A voice called back.

"Fucking Brotherhood!" Another voice yelled.

Lyons pulled back and waited, only to hear more voices.

"Wait… why aren't they firing more?" A fourth voice wondered.

Lyons turned her armored head towards Donnovan. Though he couldn't see her face, Donnovan knew she was as confused as he was.

Donnovan slowly pulled himself onto his feet, making sure to keep out of sight of the window, and stacked up across from Lyons.

"Who are you?" Lyons called.

"You tell us!" The woman yelled. "You're in our town."

"We're just travelers. We don't want trouble." Lyons called back.

"I've never seen normal travelers loaded up like you. Where are the rest of your guys?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Donnovan stated painfully, his ribs still aching.

"I would." The female yelled. "Your power armor… You Brotherhood?"

Lyons glanced at Donnovan and shrugged.

"Yes," She answered. "We are coming from Washington D.C.

Their four attackers were silent for several moments.

"Bullshit." Said one of them. "You fucks are too lazy to go out there."

"Shut the hell up, Caleb." one of the other males yelled. "He does have a point. The Brotherhood's not in D.C. from what I heard. How do we know you're not part of those Chicago guys?"

"Well you obviously saw us… So for one, we don't have those stupid-ass antlers." Donnovan called.

A laugh could be heard.

"Good point." The man snickered. "So… where do we go from here?"

"Let us in?" Lyons suggested.

"It's a fucking trick!" a voice yelled.

"Caleb, shut your mouth!" the female said. She then addressed Donnovan and Lyons. "Are you gonna shoot us again?" The female said with suspicion.

"You fucking shot first." Donnovan grunted. "We only came in to trade. We didn't want to kill anything… Well, except the dogs."

"Uh… Good point…"

"We'll come in, slowly, and go from there." Lyons stated.

"Wait… Wait! How do we know you wont just shoot us once you do come in?" One of the men yelled.

"You don't have a choice." Lyons pointed out. "We know you are there now, and our armor will probably stop most anything you throw at us."

More silence, and several hushed, rapid whispers could be heard.

"Well?" Donnovan asked.

"Fine… Come in." The woman stated grudgingly.

"I still say this is a fucking mistake." The angry voice continued.

Donnovan and Lyons exchanged glances briefly as Lyons put her hand on the door handle. Donnovan nodded, and she pulled it open. Donnovan went first, his rifle raised as he moved in, Lyons moving right behind him.

They had entered into a dilapidated, dust-covered office. Their four attackers were arrayed in several places in the room. In front of them, a stocky man stood in front of them, a five o'clock shadow on his chin and a scar over his left eye. He aimed a 10mm pistol at them, staring down the sights. Behind a pillar to Donnovan's left, a skinnier man was leaning out, aiming at the Brotherhood duo with his shotgun, his green eyes visible below his brown hair. To his right was a man crouched on the ground, aiming a peculiar looking pistol at them. His close-cropped black hair was dotted with dust. Several feet past him was a blue-haired young woman, a sniper rifle set on an overturned desk.

"Well… Now what?" Donnovan asked. The man that was standing directly in front of them lowered his pistol, his face showing no sign of apprehension.

"My name is Spade," he stated, stepping forward and stretching his hand out. Donnovan briefly glanced at Lyons before he slowly threw his rifle across his back and took Spade's hand, shaking it.

"I'm Donnovan." He introduced himself. Spade nodded, his face mostly expressionless. The black haired man with the strange pistol came out from behind the pillar lowering his weapon and walking up to Lyons.

"Strelok." He said, nodding at her.

"Call me Lyons." The sentinel said, returning Strelok's greeting as she rested her rifle against her shoulder.

"Strelok?" Donnovan said incredulously. "Did your mother sneeze while naming you?"

At first, Donnovan regretted his usual mistake of not keeping his mouth shut, as this might turn into a firefight. But Strelok simply laughed.

"That's a new one." Strelok smiled, shaking his head good-naturedly. "Hey, Kelly, Caleb! Get up here!"

"I'm not sure about this." Kelly, the sniper, and apparently the one that had shot Donnovan, yelled to them.

"The fact that I haven't shot you for almost killing me should count for something…" Donnovan stated sarcastically.

"That was lucky, and you know it." Kelly stated, pulling the rifle off of the desk and walking toward the group.

"'Bout fucking time it was. I've already been beaten to shit and shot on this trip." Donnovan retorted.

"Well, I'll make sure to hit next time." Kelly smiled, finally disarmed. "Caleb, hurry the hell up."

"I'm Caleb, and I hate the Brotherhood." Caleb stated, walking to them, standing still.

"Nice to meet you too…" Donnovan retorted sarcastically.

"So are you guys really from the Brotherhood from the East Coast?"

"Yes." Lyons stated. "We have been there for over two decades now."

"The hell were you doing there, anyway?" Strelok asked.

"Uh… No deal, man, sorry." Donnovan answered. "We had a bad run-in with some mercs who did enough damage without knowing a lot about us.

"Figures, won't say anything." Caleb muttered.

"Do you have a fucking problem?" Donnovan turned to him. "Because we can solve it man-to-man."

"Fuck off. I've seen enough of you metal heads, thinking you're so great." Caleb huffed. "Not like the NCR's any better. No one's just. What gives anyone-?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're all about truth, justice, freedom, and brahmin steak. We get it. Shut up." Strelok shook his head. He turned back to Donnovan. "Okay, you make a fair point. So what are you doing in Dogtown?"

"Hoping to trade, maybe rest for a day, then head out." Donnovan explained.

"You don't have a choice about the rest." Kelly commented. "You guys riled up the dogs, and they're gonna be up for at least the whole day. It's gonna be impossible to get in or out of the city."

"The settlements are on the rooftops, correct?" Lyons asked.

"Yeah, this building's mainly for food." Kelly said.

"Wait, how come you guys don't just set up down here?" Donnovan asked, looking around the building.

"Well, there are a few piles of rubble outside that kind of reach the second and third floor." Strelok stated glumly. "Dogs sometimes find their way in and to the higher floors, and we only have a few dozen people that live here. Not really enough to guard the building constantly."

"So how do you get to the roof?" Lyons asked. "I saw the bridges from the outside."

"Just follow us." Strelok motioned.

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"They're staring at us…" Amata hissed to Olin as the expedition found an unused corner of the rooftop to settle in. Their brahmin, not used to being so high up, panicked if it was anywhere near the edge of the roof. It was currently standing several feet away, looking at them with fear in its eyes.

"Fuck them." Glade cursed. "Let them stare all they want. What about Don and Sarah?"

"Well, they got off the ground, I think." Dusk announced, peering through the scope of her rifle and scanning the street below.

"You think?" Glade whirled around, staring at her. "YOU THINK?"

"Settle down, dammit." Morgan stated, lightly shoving Glade as she walked over to Dusk. "Why do you think that?"

"Well, the dogs are leaving. Doesn't look like they got anything." Dusk stated, calling out the actions of the canines.

"Excuse me…" Said an unfamiliar voice behind them. Morgan and Dusk turned to look at a ragged looking man standing near them. "What… What are you doing here?"

"Trade, rest, anything like that." Morgan stated.

The man seemed unconvinced.

"Your power armor." He said. "You look ready for war…"

"Well we did wade through a sea of dogs to get here." Morgan stated.

"Yeah, about that…" The man pressed. "I've never seen the dogs that crazy. You've pretty much shut Dogtown down for the entire day, maybe more."

"What? How?" Dusk frowned.

"The noise you made coming in… And who the hell brings a brahmin through here? That's like ringing a dinner bell for them."

"We fixed your elevator." Olin spoke up, making her way over to the man. "You should be grateful."

"That's not the point." The man ignored Olin's comment. "Your armor, your weapons. We've never had anyone come in that way since the Legion attacked. Half the people here are terrified of you."

"Those guys don't seem to be." Dusk commented, pointing to the opposite corner of the rooftop. There, half a dozen men were gathered, and were eyeing the expedition. Their garb was rather interesting. On their feet, they wore makeshift sandals, while red, toga-like clothes covered their torsos and legs. Strange armor pieces made of what looked to be cloth over thick plastic or metal, supplemented their already unusual garb. Face wraps and sunglasses covered their faces. One of the men wore the skinned head of a canine on the top of his own head. Planted right near the six men was a red flag, the golden image of a bull sewn onto the fabric.

"Those Legion guys have been here forever. They're the only ones who survived both the battle and those mercs."

"Legion?" Morgan asked, glancing at them.

"Mercs?" Olin queried, the memory of her and Donnovan's encounter with Anna, Chase, and Simon still fresh in her mind.

"Look, just stay quiet and stay out of trouble. If you don't make a scene, people will ignore you." The man went on.

"That's not going to be an option, I'm afraid." Rockfowl spoke up. "Two of our friends are somewhere down there, trying to find us."

"Do you cause trouble like this in every settlement you go to?" The man threw his hands up.

The members of the expedition all looked at each other, hoping someone would answer. After several seconds of awkward silence, Morgan spoke up.

"Pretty much."

Dusk shrugged and walked back over to her observation perch, taking her helmet off as she did so, leaving in near Morrill, who was setting up a tent. The Legion soldiers suddenly became significantly more interested in the expedition, and began talking among themselves. Morgan walked over to Dusk, putting her back against the chest-high wall.

"So this is the 'Caesar's Legion' we've heard so much about." Morgan stated, her power armor still on as she studied the soldiers.

"My mind's not really on them, right now." Dusk grunted, looking through the scope of her rifle again, trying to locate Donnovan and Lyons somewhere in the streets below them.

"Yeah, well their minds are obviously on us." Olin stated as she walked up to Morgan, handing her a bottle of water. "They haven't stopped staring at Amata or I since we got here."

"They're paying attention to Dusk, too now." Morgan tossed her head to indicate the expedition's sniper.

"I already said I don't care right now…" Dusk murmured. "I'm gonna be pissed if all of what I taught Don is going to go to waste."

"Hey, you!" Glade, who had walked over to one of the roof's edges, called to the man who had just been talking to them. The man stopped mid stride, and turned to look at the much larger man.

"Uh… yeah?"

"I see the other parts of the town… How do we get there from here?" Glade asked. "The bridges don't connect to the roof."

"One floor down, down that stairway." The man indicated the roof entry shack.

"Well…" Glade turned to the rest of the expedition. "I'm going to go insane standing here wondering if those two are safe."

"I would rather not be with my own thoughts, either." Rockfowl agreed. "Are you going to take a look around."

"Yeah." Glade nodded. "Wanna go?"

"Gladly." Rockfowl nodded, walking over to join Glade.

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"So you guys are NCR?" Donnovan asked Kelly as they all made their way to the top of the building, where they'd find a bridge. Try as he might, he could not help but stare at her blue hair.

"NCR… What a bunch of-" Caleb began again, but Kelly shouldered him.

"Yes and no." Kelly answered. "I grew up around here, and Strelok got here when he was… how old were you?"

"Sixteen." Strelok commented.

"Right." Kelly went on. "Spade, the quiet guy there, he's from New Reno originally. Doesn't say much, but damn good in a fight."

Donnovan briefly tore his eyes away from Kelly's blue hair to look at Spade, who nodded to him. Donnovan returned the nod.

"What about 'Mr. I Hate Everything' there." Donnovan jerked his thumb as Caleb.

"Caleb, shut up." Kelly commanded quickly. Caleb, who had opened his mouth, closed it, looking annoyed. "He's from somewhere out west. Never really elaborated. I guess he used to be with the NCR."

"I see." Lyons said. "But how does that make all of you NCR?"

"Well, we always were around, and were messing with the Legion when they tried to take the city. We kind of slowed down when they left. Some NCR guy showed up, offered to pay us if we kept harassing them… So yeah."

"So what the hell's with the blue hair?" Donnovan finally asked. "Did you run a pulse grenade through your hair, or something?"

"You know about how to take care of your hair?" Strelok cocked an eyebrow.

"Dammit." Donnovan laughed, realizing he'd set himself up again.

"Nah, just a dye." Kelly stated. "Used to be blonde. Couldn't have that, it reflected sunlight a bit."

"Gotcha." Donnovan nodded.

"You going to hold on to those beauty tips?" Strelok snickered.

Donnovan threw his head up in exasperation.

"Hah!" Lyons laughed. "It's like walking with an obnoxious mirror, isn't it?"

"Here we are." Kelly stated, stopping the group in front of a massive, metal door. She raised her fist and rapped against the metal with her knuckles.

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"SARAH! DON!" Olin yelled as Donnovan and Lyons crossed onto the rooftop of the Republic Plaza. Olin threw her arms around Donnovan and Lyons, in turn, before noticing the four other people they were with.

"Who are they?"

"Locals." Donnovan stated simply, glancing at Kelly, who nodded.

"Looks like you turned out alright." A voice carried from across the rooftop. Donnovan looked up to see Glade and Rockfowl walking towards him, Glade carrying a flamer.

" 'Eugene' not enough to compensate?" Donnovan joked.

"Fuck you, too." Glade laughed, giving Donnovan a friendly punch in the shoulder. "I figure this might help against the dogs."

"Who are these guys?" Glade asked, echoing Olin's question.

"Great, more Brotherhood assholes." Caleb grunted.

"Locals, just locals." Donnovan stated, ignoring Caleb. He took off his helmet, his hair damp with sweat. "Where's the brahmin? I need more ammo."

"Just get a laser rifle or laser pistol, already." Olin grinned.

"I can't hit the broad side of a barn with a damn energy weapon, you know that." Donnovan told her. Anna and Strelok laughed.

"You think he's joking." Olin snickered, turning to them.

"He shot at an actual barn with a laser rifle and missed completely." Glade added.

"That's why I stick with old fashioned lead." Donnovan patted his AK-47 lovingly.

"Go talk to Morgan and Dusk," Glade indicated the corner of the rooftop, where the two women were still looking out over the city. "They've been waiting on you two."

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**Author's Note: I'd like to apologize if a few sentences seem awkward in this chapter. I finally wrapped it up tonight, and may have missed something in my tired state.**

**Anyway, I'd like to again thank everyone who has been reading and reviewing the story. I hope I did justice to the four mercenaries. A few specific readers of mine should get what I mean by that comment. :)**

**After this story wraps up, I will have a sort of F.A.Q. section at the end of the last chapter, where I'll answer most of the questions I get in messages and reviews about the story.**

**For now, I'll answer two questions I've been asked in both messages and reviews about the Midwestern Brotherhood:**

**1. A lot of people are curious about how General Dekker could still be the leader of the Midwestern Brotherhood. I did not elaborate on this for a reason. This will be explained in later installments of the series.**

**2. A few people are also wondering why I made the Midwestern Brotherhood seem like such dicks. The truth is, they really are dicks. I won't argue with the fact that the original Brotherhood is not all that much better (and that the East Coast Brotherhood are almost a complete 180 of the original organization), but the Midwesterners are pretty infamous for being oppressive pricks. They are, in every sense of the word, imperialists. Beyond all of this, keep in mind that pretty much everything that we know about the Midwestern Brotherhood comes from Fallout Tactics, which has a tendency to not fit into the accepted canon very well.**

**The end of this story is in sight. With several more chapters, I will close this out. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for continuing to follow the adventures of the Corps of Rediscovery. :)**


	35. Instincts

**Part 35 – Instincts**

Donnovan lay on his cot on the rooftop of the Republic Plaza, hands behind his head as he stared up at the brown, scorched sky. Up in Dogtown, it seemed this was as close as he could get to the sky without the aid of a Vertibird. As if he could reach it, he stretched his arm to the endless atmosphere, letting his dry, dust-caked fingers reach towards empty air. His thoughts drifted back to the Capital Wasteland, and how the Brotherhood and Outcasts were getting along back in the Citadel. It was only then, that he realized how far from home he and his companions were. As he stared up into the impenetrable grey clouds, he thought of how long he had been gone. He hoped Wadsworth was keeping his house in order, and that Megaton was still thriving. He thought back to the people he had connected with in Rivet City. He thought of the Family, hidden safely away in their home deep in Meresti Station. He dwelled on many subject, but his musing were suddenly interrupted by a power armored head leaning into his vision, casting a shadow on his face and obscuring the dull sky.

"Come on, get your shit. The dogs are clearing out." Glade stated, his voice muffled slightly by the power helmet on his head. Donnovan watched, still lying on his back, as Glade wandered over to the others, who were all snapping on their power armor. With one last look at the sky, Donnovan pulled himself to his feet and packed up his cot. The tents had already been taken care of, and their sentry bots and brahmin were already loaded up. Morgan was cleaning the bolt of her G3, while Olin had busied herself with the sentry bots, making minor tweaks. Not wanting to be the cause of delay, Donnovan quickly retrieved his power armor and began to put it on. Yet again, the residents of Dogtown stared at the members of the expedition. Donnovan was most bothered by the looks the Legion soldiers were giving the group. As he bent down to secure part of his leg armor, a familiar female's voice greeted him.

"Heading out already?"

Donnovan straightened up to see Kelly and Strelok standing in front of him.

"Yeah, the dogs have calmed down, apparently." Donnovan shrugged.

"Yep. A couple of traders and travelers are going to head out as well. I think they're waiting for you to go…" Strelok said.

Donnovan laughed "Let me guess, we'll make the most noise and draw the most attention?"

"Something like that." Kelly nodded.

"Hey… Which way are you guys headed?" A scruffy-looking man in brown pants and a jacket asked, joining their conversation.

"West." Morgan appeared, gripping Donnovan's AK-47 in one of her hands.

"Can… can I go with you?" The man asked.

"Oh shit!" Another voice stated. "Hey- West? Me too, please?" A second man ran up to them. The tattered leather armor on his body was patched with bits of random fabric.

Donnovan looked at Morgan and shrugged.

"Don't get in our way, don't steal anything, and I could care less." Morgan grunted.

"Cool!" The first man said brightly. "I'm Ja-"

"No, stop." Morgan cut him off. "I don't want to know your name. If you die, I don't want to remember you."

The two new arrivals looked at each other in surprise.

"Don't mind her." Donnovan sighed.

"So… I'm…"

"I didn't say she was wrong." Donnovan frowned before turning back to Kelly and Strelok. He had only recently started to realize that Morgan was right in almost everything she said, and had started taking her advice.

"And I thought we gave rude greetings." Strelok laughed.

"You'd be suspicious of anyone and everyone after what we've been through." Donnovan raised an eyebrow.

"You seemed to trust us, pretty quickly." Kelly pointed out.

"Who says I actually trusted you?" Donnovan winked as he slowly took a few steps backward, wanting to gather with his companions. "You guys need anything taken west?"

"Where are you headed, New Canaan?" Strelok asked.

"Yeah, then New Vegas." Donnovan nodded.

"You know… I wouldn't mind if you could take something to a friend of mine. He runs a courier place in New Canaan." Strelok said, digging into his pockets. He produced a small piece of paper from his pocket. After quickly reading over it, he folded it and walked over to Donnovan.

"Courier place, huh?" Donnovan asked. "That actually works. I've been wanting to send a letter back east to New Jerusalem."

"You could probably contract one of his guys, yeah. I know they do deliveries to pretty much everywhere." Strelok nodded.

"Works for me." Donnovan said, briefly removing his power armor chest plate to stow the letter in the pocket of his undershirt.

"Don, come on!" Olin called.

Donnovan looked over at the assembled group. The two travelers that had joined them were standing several feet away, nervously talking to each other.

"Hey, if we pass through again, I'll see if I can't find you guys." Donnovan stated. "How many of those Legion dudes are gonna be left?" He added with a whisper, a grin on his face.

"Well, they're getting more careful, and we can't just cap them in public, word will get out." Kelly muttered quietly.

"Hopefully all." Strelok shrugged, his voice low.

"Good luck!" Donnovan nodded, and went to join his companions.

"So we're all in agreement, then?" Morrill was asking. "Morgan, Glade, our two extras, and myself will make our way down on foot. The rest will take the elevator down?"

"I'll take the stairs, I really don't want to go into that thing." Donnovan spoke up, eyeing the elevator with trepidation.

"Who'd like to switch with Donnovan?" Morrill asked, looking around at the group. Rockfowl and Morgan glanced at each other, but did not step forward.

"You go, Morrill." Dusk stated. "We'll need to know where the hell to go once we get out."

"Everyone okay with this?" Morrill asked around. There was a murmur of agreement. Nobody seemed to care, their minds being set back on the plan of their trek out of the city.

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The streets were as silent as they had been when the expedition first entered Dogtown. The path to the ground was uneventful for both parties, save for Glade tripping down a small fight of stairs. Though it was rather funny to Donnovan at first, everyone was past it now, including the two wastelanders they had picked up. There was no doubt that they would run into the dog hordes again. The question was 'when?' As they walked on, the streets became somewhat clearer, and a distinct stench began to fill the air. A smell resembling a mixture of wet fur and dried wood seeped into their nostrils. Donnovan, who was walking at the front of the expedition alongside Glade and one of the wastelanders, took notice of a rather disturbing change as they traveled. There were many more bones, weapons, and armor pieces scattered all around. These were the remnants, no doubt, of travelers unlucky enough to avoid the dogs.

"Glade…" Donnovan whispered.

Glade flicked on the pilot flame on the tip of his flamethrower before answering. "I know…"

"If there wasn't a risk of getting ripped to shreds, I'd love to do some looting." Donnovan commented, glancing at a dirt-caked sniper rifle, a bony hand still attached to the trigger. "Having my own sn-" Donnovan froze.

The second wastelander had broken from the group, and was attempting to reposses a plasma rifle that was pinned under the rusted shell of a sentry bot.

"What the hell are you doing?" Olin hissed.

"Come on, this is a friggin' jack-" The man was cut off. As he ripped the rifle from under the non-functioning robot, it discharged while his face was near the barrel. The man's head melted in a pile of red-stained, green sludge, and the energy weapon clattered to the ground, discharging again and sending a bolt of green plasma rocketing down the street.

The entire expedition froze, trying to take in what had happened in the span of mere seconds. They didn't have time to dwell on this freak accident. The blasts had alerted the dogs hidden all around inside the buildings. They began to slink out of the buildings again, except this time, there were many more of them, and they didn't seem to stop. The only odd part to Donnovan, was that they hadn't immediately charged them.

"FUCKING RUN!" Glade yelled, shoving Donnovan forward. Before Donnovan could protest, the expedition stared up, following Glade, who had grabbed Donnovan by the shoulder and was pulling him along. This caused the dogs to give chase, running after them as a chorus of barks filled the streets.

"You shouldn't have done that!" Donnovan yelled.

Glade turned to look at Donnovan as he ran. "What other choi-"

He was cut off as the ground below his feet left him and he dropped down, pulling Donnovan with him. The pair hit sloped dirt, Donnovan rolling awkwardly downwards, his helmet flying off of his head. Glade meanwhile, due to the weight of the flamer fuel-loaded tank on his back, simply slid along the dirt, his armor leaving several swaths in his wake. The surviving wastelander also hadn't been paying attention, and followed the two Brotherhood members down the dirt slope, though he mostly retained his footing until he fell over on top of Glade.

Donnovan ended up face-down in the dirt. He had a brief moment of relief that his head didn't hit something hard and lifted his face. Suddenly his helmet, which had been rolling after him, impacted with the back of his skull, sending his nose back into the ground.

"Son of a b-" His curse was cut off as a tiny whine came from somewhere very close by. Slowly, Donnovan raised his head to see three, extremely fuzzy snouts pointed directly at him. Three pairs of beady, black eyes stared at him. Donnovan slowly pushed against the dirt, lifting his upper body past the crumpled pile of clothes several inches from his face. As he did so, more of the fuzzy creatures came into view. There had to be dozens of the furballs. Glade had sat up, and was looking at the critters with an extremely surprised expression. Slowly, his head turned to Donnovan, while the wastelander that had fallen in with them looked on in curiousity.

"Puppies… Holy shit… Puppies..." Glade stated, his voice tinged with fear. Donnovan took in all of little bouncing dogs. The fully-grown canines had apparently gathered the clothes of slain travelers and traders into a makeshift bed for their young.

"They are kind of funny." Donnovan couldn't help but grin despite the situation, as several of the puppies looked at him curiously, some titling their heads to one side.

"Uh… Guys…?" Olin's voice drifted to them from above. The three men that had fallen down the slope looked up to see the rest of the expedition at the edge of the pavement. Donnovan turned in a circle, looking for a way out. The slope they had tumbled down wasn't all that steep. The trio had fallen only because they had not been watching where they were walking. It appeared that part of the pavement in the road had either been blown away by a bomb or eroded over time. Regardless, the dirt it uncovered had been dug into, sloping down to a flat center where the puppies were gathered. All the expedition had to do to move onward walk forward and be aware of where their feet were. There was just one problem. The entire area was now surrounded by dogs. The canines had formed an uneven circle around the entire expedition, some of them were literally an inch from the bulk of the group still on the pavement. All of the dogs were growling, their teeth bared as drool leaked from their mouths. Everyone began desperately looking for a way out, including Glade, as he attempted to get to his feet. As his did so, he accidentally pulled the trigger of his flamethrower, shooting a jet or fire into the air.

Almost immediately, the entire situation changed. The several of the puppies cried out in terror, and the growling ceased almost at once from the adults. Seeing this, an idea came to Glade. He let loose another jet of flame into the air, letting this one last for two to three seconds, moving the flamer slightly right and left and causing many of the adult dogs to flinch. Glade then aimed the weapon at the puppies lying in the nest, the pilot light still lit. Several whines escaped the massive horde of canines. It was apparent that they had understood.

"That's right, you sorry sacks of shit…" Glade muttered. "That's right…"

Donnovan turned to the rest of the expedition. "Guys…" He stated very quietly and slowly, so as not to alarm the already tense dogs. "Move, slooowly." Donnovan emphasized the last word as he beckoned the others on.

Morrill's helmeted head looked left and right before he grabbed the brahmin's reigns and gave them a light tug. The brahmin snorted nervously, but responded to Morrill's tight grip and slowly began to move forward, the rest of the expedition following. Glade still had his flamer trained on the nest of puppies, and Donnovan was directing the expedition on. Amata's face was white and she was shaking with terror as she walked. Rockfowl took her hand in his, helping to direct her. Donnovan turned to the wastelander, who was hastily buttoning up his traveling pack.

"What the hell are you doing?" He hissed. "Come on."

The man carefully put the pack across his back. "Dropped my pack… Going… going."

Donnovan waited until the man had walked on to join the expedition before he lightly tapped Glade's shoulder. "Come on, dude. We're good."

"Guide me." Glade stated quietly. "Grab me somewhere."

Noting the double entendre, Donnovan nodded and gripped the shoulder piece of Glade's armor, lightly pulling on it. Glade slowly began to walk backwards, the dogs watching with rapt attention. Their eyes were fixed mainly on the pilot flame as the two Brotherhood members moved. The tension was eerie, the only audible sounds coming from the brahmin, which was still snorting with fear.

As Donnovan and Glade slowly made their way up the opposite slope and rejoined the expedition, the dogs slowly began to trot down into the makeshift bedding, breaking up the sea of furry ears and snouts that had been watching them.

"Good thinking, Glade." Morgan said in a low voice, glancing at Glade's flamer as the expedition continued to move.

"More like good luck." Glade stated, still walking backwards as Donnovan guided him. "This thing was an impulse buy…"

"A damn good one." Dusk nodded.

"Say something about compensation again, Don." Glade joked quietly.

"Alright, alright. You made the right decision. Now shut up or I'll shove you back towards those mutts."

Glade snickered. "Just keep going, this is working ou-ooooooh shit…"

"What?" Donnovan turned around. He froze.

"FUCKING WALK ON." Glade hissed. Donnovan immediately complied, moving forward.

"What's-? Oh, great." Olin muttered.

The dogs had apparently only checked on their young before moving on. They were still following the expedition, their head close to the ground, eyes locked on the travelers.

"Why are they following us?" Morgan asked, her voice a bit too calm for the situation at hand.

"We threatened their puppies?" Amata suggested, her voice quavering.

"I figure that'd be a good reason for them to NOT follow us." Glade countered.

"No, it is something else." Morrill stated from the front of the expedition. "I have an idea. Stop moving."

"Are you crazy?" Dusk exclaimed.

"No. Do it. Now."

Donnovan glanced at Dusk, who was looking through her rifle. She briefly looked at Donnovan and shrugged. Donnovan held Glade's shoulder steady, stopping him. As the expedition slowly came to a halt, so did the horde of dogs that were slowly following the expedition.

"Well I must admit, I did not expect that." Morrill grunted. "Does anyone else have an idea?" The dogs still kept at bay. One particular dog seemed jumpy, and gave a loud, high-pitched bark. An answer came from somewhere among the expedition in the form of a long, soft whine. Everyone froze, looking at each other, until their eyes inevitably fell on the wastelander.

"What?" He asked. As if to implicate him further, another whine resounded from somewhere near his person.

"What's in your pack?" Olin asked, her head slightly tilted.

"Mind your own business." The man snapped.

"Put the pack on the ground, NOW." Morgan stepped forward, her voice edged with poison. Morgan's presence alone seemed to make the man agreeable. He slowly put his pack down. Morgan grabbed him by his collar while Olin slowly crouched down, and unclasped the straps on the man's pack. Slowly, the top of the pack moved. With a brief glance at the wastelander, Olin removed the cover of the pack to reveal a small, brown, fuzzy puppy with a black patch of fur over its right eye. Its tail wagged slightly as it stared up at the blonde woman. Carefully, Olin picked up the puppy. As she did so, another loud whine could be heard from the same dog.

"Give it to this asshole." Morgan shoved the wastelander forward.

"Wait… Wait. NO!" The man protested, seeing what was coming. "They'll kill me!"

"Either you give the puppy back, or I'll blow your head off right here." Olin threatened, putting the barrel of her G3 to the back of the man's skull. Morgan nodded at Olin, who walked up to the wastelander and held the puppy out. With a nervous glance at Morgan, the man took the dog into his shaking arms. The members of the expedition slowly moved apart, letting the man walk forward. As he came into the view of the dogs, the canine that was apparently the puppy's mother, gave another whine. This panicked the wastelander.

"Shit… No, no!" He turned around, only to face Morgan's rifle and Glade's flamer.

"Go." Glade growled, shaking his flamer slightly. The man turned, now openly weeping as he walked on. Every step of his was heavy, but he kept going, knowing the alternative was being shot. When he was halfway to the crowd of dogs, he bent down and put the puppy on the ground. The dog's mother came forward, trotting out towards her puppy. She slowed down as she came closer to the wastelander, who was now shaking so hard that the expedition could see his tremors. The dog, meanwhile, slowly bent down and picked her puppy up by the scruff, glancing at the man. She began to slink off towards her pack, and the wastelander relaxed. He turned to look at the expedition with a relieved look on his face. The Corps exchanged glances, now unsure of what to do. Before anyone could act, choice was taken away from them. Once the mother disappeared into the massive pack of canines, they all resume growling, almost all at once.

"Fuck me." Glade stated, readying his flamer.

Then, with in a single, terrifying movement, the front row of dogs charged forward.

"No, no, no no nononono!" Donnovan exclaimed. Though panicked, he held his ground, putting his eye behind the sights of his AK-47. He would never get the chance to use it. The dogs bowled over the wastelander, who had only managed to take several running steps back to the expedition. He disappeared under a mass of fur, gnashing teeth, and snapping jaws with a bloodcurdling, spine-chilling scream that died out with a slow gurgle. The dogs continued to rip and tear at the man, while the expedition looked on in horror.

"We… need to go, now." Morgan said, turning to Morrill.

"I do not have any arguments at this point." Morrill agreed, turning. "We should make haste."

As the expedition moved out, this time at a quicker pace, several of the dogs paused from tearing up the wastelander to look at the travelers. They didn't do much besides growl, but it was disconcerting nevertheless. The growling only served to quicken the expedition's pace through the streets of what was formerly Denver, Donnovan lagging slightly as he pulled a backpedaling Glade along.


	36. A Different World

**Part 36 – A Different World**

As the expedition pushed further west in the weeks following their exit from Dogtown, not much was said. Donnovan's over analytical mind, which he had managed to repress for a while, had grinded back into action with the death of the wastelanders, namely the one who was torn apart by the dogs. Why hadn't they simply protected the man? Sure, the trip from Dogtown would've taken longer, as they would've been moving more slowly with the dogs following them, but the man would still be alive.

"We have to take care of our own."

That was what Morgan had said after the expedition had left New Jerusalem those many months ago, and it seemed to apply here as well. Donnovan had protested the expedition's selfishness once they had left Dogtown, but Morgan shot him down quickly by mentioning how Donnovan hadn't raised his voice in protest at the moment they shoved the wastelander forward. He had no comeback. It was absolutely true. It seems that outside of danger, anyone could be a saint. In the heat of the moment, when the life of those one cares about is on the line, all of that goes out of the proverbial window. Still, two more people who had joined them had died, which created another thought in Donnovan's mind, one that Glade coincidentally brought up one day several weeks later.

"Yo, Don… Ever notice how a lot of people who join us ends up biting it?"

"I was kind of thinking that myself…" Donnovan nodded in agreement. He paused. "Well, except for Amata."

"Well, she knew you already, so that doesn't count." Glade frowned.

"Anna?" Donnovan queried. "She didn't get killed."

"After killing two others, yeah."

"Oh yeah..."

Through their subsequent traveling days, the terrain around them had been changing slowly, but drastically. Dried pathways, crumbling rocks, and dead trees gave way to clean canyons, vibrant trees, and beautiful, clear rivers. For the first time in his life, Donnovan had a taste of water that was unfiltered, but cleaner than any he had ever had. It was incredible. The entire expedition had taken a full day's break to bathe in the clean, beautiful waters, something they had all desperately needed, and something that helped Donnovan's now painless, but slowly healing arm wound, significantly. They eventually found themselves traveling along the edge of a massive canyon. From what they could see, it was luscious and filled with soft browns and strong greens. They did not have the time to explore it, something that nagged at Donnovan. Their destination was New Canaan, an oasis of trade, rest, and business. The expedition had been enjoying the peaceful treks and beautiful scenery. The only ammo used was for hunting, and for Donnovan's sniper rifle training, sometimes both at the same time. The group had been traveling north from the canyon for several days, and a large rock loomed in front of them, blocking their view. As they made their way forward, they were finally greeted by the first person they had seen in weeks. A man wearing a flat, black cowboy-like hat and a collared, plaid shirt was standing on a rock. He had a thick black beard and mustache to match. Though suspecting something more sinister, the expedition realized that if he was planning an ambush, there were several other places where he could've done it already. Besides, something was different about this man, despite the fact that he was clutching a very impressive looking handgun, one that Donnovan had read about in the Vault and seen pictures of.

"Greetings!" He called out in a very friendly manner.

"Greetings to you." Morrill nodded.

"It's not really my business, but would you mind if I asked who you were?" The man asked, a smile on his face.

"We are travelers from the east." Morril answered. "We have come a long way, and we wish to get to New Canaan. May I ask who you are?"

"Of course." The man nodded, still smiling. "Friends, my name is Kenneth. I live in New Canaan, and am part of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints." This man was very nice, to a slightly annoying point. Nevertheless, it was actually good to see someone who was too nice, rather than too psychotic or too evil. An overly friendly greeting was an extremely welcome change from the usual potshot or attempted mugging.

"It is nice to meet you." Morrill stated. "I do wonder though, do you greet everyone like this?"

"At the entrance to New Canaan, to some extent, yes." Kenneth nodded. "You just didn't seem like the average travelers we get. I was out here for a walk, and noticed you."

"I see." Morrill concluded. "So New Canaan is not far?"

"Just up that ridge." Kenneth nodded, pointing the way.

"Okay, I can't help it anymore." Donnovan interjected. "Sorry for cutting in, but what is that pistol you have there? It looks incredible."

"This?" Kenneth smiled at his weapon, fondly. "It's something special to us New Canaanites. This is my M1911. It was created by a member of our religion many years before the great war. Learning to use this is something of a rite of passage for every New Canaanite."

"It looked like a 1911." Donnovan gaped. ".45 auto?"

"Indeed." Kenneth said, looking impressed. "You seem very taken with it."

"Taken? Are you kidding?" Donnovan asked incredulously. "I'd love to get one of those."

"We do sell them in New Canaan." Kenneth offered.

Donnovan's jaw dropped. "You're kidding."

"I am not." Kenneth gave a small chuckle. "We have everything you could need there. Gun stores, inns, markets, even a bar. We don't partake in its services, but we understand that there are many travelers and traders who do."

"This is too good to be true." Donnovan stated. "If New Canaan is as good as it sounds… I mean, the last place that awesome was New Jerusalem."

Kenneth perked up at this. "We've heard tales of the city, but never actually gone out that way."

"You should, it is incredible." Donnovan stated. "It's like some kind of weird yet idyllic version of peace. It's not like they all love each other, but they leave each other be. It's kind of freaky. You never see that kind of thing."

"The more I hear about it, the more I want to visit."

"Believe me, you'll be welcomed with open arms. Though they have security everywhere."

"Don't forget the New Jerusalem Mossad." Glade added.

"Or their heavy response teams." Dusk joined in.

"We apolgoize." Morrill put his hand up to quiet the group. "It has been a while since we've seen anyone else."

"It is no problem. I enjoy talking with anyone and everyone. Head on up to New Canaan. You can get everything you need taken care of." Kenneth smiled.

The sun shined down as the expedition rounded the rock up ahead, and the slightly downward sloping path to New Canaan came into view. The town was an oasis in an already incredible landscape. Though the New Canaan itself was incomparable to the ancient-like, urban splendor of New Jerusalem back east, the clean town and the gorgeous terrain surrounding it had its own beauty of a frontier variety. Small buildings were arranged in neat rows. A church with a bell tower poked up into the air, capped off by a neat, square, cone-shaped roof. Though the buildings still showed the wear and tear of anything from the pre-war years, it was still somehow clean.

As they neared the entrance of the town, they were greeted by two guards, both armed with well-maintained submachineguns and dressed in mostly clean, dust-free pants and shirts similar to Kenneth's. A third guard was leaning against the wall, a small, black leather-bound book open in his hands.

"Greetings!" One of the on-duty guards stated. "If you need any help, ask anybody insideThey will be glad to help."

"Thank you." Morrill nodded, motioning the Corp onward. As they entered the town, a sense of calm washed over them. Traders and travelers walked back and forth, shops were open for business. The town was bustling, but everyone seemed to be at peace.

"This place is… nice…" Morgan muttered. For the first time in his life, Donnovan heard a tone of uncertainty in her voice.

"You say that as if it is a surprise?" A passing New Canaanite smiled at her, overhearing the comment.

"Uh, right. Sorry." Morgan muttered.

" 'Sorry'?" Donnovan stared at her. "'SORRY?' You never say sorry."

"I know…" Morgan frowned. "But there's something about these people. They actually do seem… Not… Uh…"

"Not assholeish?" Glade offered.

"Uh, sure, yeah." Morgan nodded.

Donnovan was still taken aback. "Since when are you at a loss for words?"

"Oh shut the hell up…" Morgan grumbled. "I'm enjoying this. It's peaceful and not annoying me, which is strange… But nice for a change."

Donnovan laughed as Morrill, after asking directions from another very friendly New Canaanite, led them to a nice, clean looking inn with a large wooden porch. The innkeper was outside on the deck, sweeping.

"Hello there!" He smiled, resting the broom against the wall of the building and brushing his hands together to get rid of the excess dust. "What can I do for you tired travelers today?"

"Is this all real?" Olin whispered into Donnovan's ear. "These people seriously cannot be fighters and weapon makers, and still be this nice…"

"I'm as weirded out as you." Donnovan admitted. "Still. It's not a terrible thing that this place is run by nice people who can apparently kick some serious ass if they have to."

"Yes, we would like lodging." Morrill glanced back at the weary expedition. "For several days."

"We should have plenty of rooms open. Would you like to store your robots and brahmin as well?" The innkeeper asked politely.

"Yes, please."

"Well, let me get someone to get your carriers, and we can come inside and write up a bill. After that, you all can rest. You do look rather exhausted, if you don't mind me saying."

"That's not far from the truth." Morgan said with a smile. Her smile immediately faded as she realized how she had responded. "What the hell is wrong with me?" She hissed to Glade.

"Give me a moment." The innkeeper held his hand up. He turned his head and called into the building. "Matthew! Joseph! We have customers!"

Two young boys came jogging out through the doors of the inn. They greeted the expedition brightly before taking their pack beast and robots, and guiding them confidently around the back of the inn, Yearling and Rockfowl following them. With that, the expedition followed the innkeeper inside, and found themselves in a quiet, peaceful lobby. Clean, vintage couches were neatly arrayed against the walls. Interesting tapestries hung from the walls. The lobby looked like a recreation of one of the old western homes Donnovan had seen in pictures in the vault history archives. A small fireplace, with wood already prepared, was tucked away in a corner, surrounded by several very comfortable looking chairs.

"There you are." Morrill stated, handing over the payment for their lodging and bringing Donnovan out of his trance. Morrill turned back to the rest of the group. "We are almost out of funds from our collective pool."

"No big deal." Glade shrugged. "I'm sure we can all throw together our personal cash if we absolutely have to."

There was a murmur of agreement.

"We won't have to for a little while." Dusk said, grinning mischievously. Almost immediately, Donnovan remembered how Dusk had cleaned the Transitional Twilight Hand chapel back in New Jerusalem out of every cap. Something about Dusk's expression seemed to echo that.

"What do you mean?" Lyons asked curiously.

"I told Rockfowl to double check that extra bag on the most intact sentry bot." Dusk pretended to yawn. "He'll bring it in after everything's taken care of."

"And…?" Lyons pressed.

"Remember how all that shit was lying around in Dogtown?" Dusk told them. "Well, I'm kind of pissed that we couldn't get that AR30 for Don. Still, after that waster was torn up, I started snagging anything within reach, since the dogs weren't really following us anymore after that."

Everyone stared at her.

"Hey, I ripped off a couple thousand caps from that chapel without any of those New Jerusalem power armor guys seeing me." Dusk shrugged. "Don't feel bad that you didn't notice."

"You're incredible." Glade grunted.

"Don't sound so surprised." Dusk gloated.

"What's all in there?" Olin asked.

"A few decent AER9s, two beaten up Plasma Rifles which Olin can probably fix up pretty well." Dusk explained, glancing at Olin, who nodded. Dusk raised her eyes to the ceiling, trying to recall everything else. "A few dirty N99s… A really nice 870 that I might actually keep. Two Mp10s… Oh! And this really nice looking M4. Remember that gun that the merc, Simon, had? It looks almost exactly like that. There are also a shit ton of P-35s. I haven't seen any of those for years."

Everyone continued to gape at Dusk.

"How did you get all of that?" Lyons asked, extremely surprised.

"Just kind of picked them up as we walked. I'm serious, if small groups are fast enough, they can pick up most of that stuff during their runs to Dogtown. There's a lot of weapons there. Only thing I'm pissed about is that I couldn't get the damn rocket launcher I saw."

"Well… I guess we can sell those tomorrow." Morrill commented, looking impressed.

"Bring them out, I'll take a look and fix them up." Olin offered.

"Out?" Dusk asked. "Why out?"

"I wanna set up outside, and do some work." Olin explained. "I'm too tired to wander around, but this place is too nice to not take in. I'll sit outside while I fix them up. That way, we'll sell what we can tomorrow all at once."

"I'll join you after I check up on everyone." Lyons stated. "Keep you company."

"I don't know about the rest of you…" Glade said, stretching and glancing outside into the orange sky. It was evening. "But I'm gonna go sleep… then sleep some more."

"I will probably do the same." Morrill nodded in agreement.

"You guys are boring." Donnovan laughed. "I'm gonna go throw my gear in my room, then go check out the town."

"Don't kill anyone or destroy any churches this time." Glade laughed.

"Fuck you too." Donnovan grinned, throwing up a middle finger at Glade.

Donnovan carefully stowed his gear and left the inn, blinking in the bright, setting sun and rubbing his sore shoulders. As he walked through the streets of New Canaan, he felt himself relax for the first time in... Months? Weeks? He'd lost track of how long he'd been on the road. This place, this town, was a little pocket of paradise in an otherwise desolate wasteland. The people were uncharacteristically friendly for this day and age, but he didn't mind. It was a nice change from the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel, and, quite frankly, almost everyone else he'd encountered thus far. He grinned to himself. Maybe he'd get a drink or two to celebrate this lull in action.

He caught one of the locals as she passed. "Excuse me," he said. "Is there a place around here for me to get a drink?"

She pointed down the road to a dingy looking building with a sign marked "Bar". "Down there," she replied. "I'm heading there anyway. Do you want to come with?"

He eyed her, initially with suspicion, then with thinly veiled interest. She was younger than he, probably not older than twenty. She was also about a head shorter. She vaguely reminded Donnovan of one of those cowgirls who graced pre-war Western movies - one of those "bad girls" who liked guns almost as much as she loved horses, almost always Hispanic, with a penchant for gunpowder. Well, she got one thing right. She was obviously Hispanic, with long dark hair that fell almost to her waist and a dark complexion that added to the "badass bitch" look. At the same time she looked strangely frail, like  
she might break if he hit her too hard. She crossed her arms and arched a slim eyebrow, waiting for his response.

"If you can't find your tongue, I'll just go myself," she remarked. "This town isn't too dangerous."

"Uh, right." He broke out of his trance and gave her a rather sheepish grin. "Sorry. Sure, let's go."

She shrugged. "Don't matter to me much," she said. "This way."

"So, uh...what's your name?"

"Adriana," she said. "Munoz. You?"

"Donnovan," he said. "Edan."

She raised an eyebrow at him but gave no other hint that she'd caught him making fun of her. "You part of the power armor troupe that showed up this afternoon?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Where you from?"

"East Coast."

"Well, senor, that's very specific."

"Okay, does Washington, D.C. ring a bell?" he asked her, his voice rimmed with  
sarcasm.

"You're a bit of a smartass, aren't you, Donnovan?" Adriana remarked. "Whatever. Rings a bell, actually. Haven't been there, myself. Isn't it a bit far?"

"Yeah, you could say that," he joked. "A thousand miles or so, give or take."

"Sounds like a hell of a walk," she said. "Well, here we are. The New Canaan watering hole. It's not much to look at, but at least there's booze."

Donnovan paused at the entrance, examining the worn out building with a simple wooden sign hanging out front that read 'BAR'.

"Oh shit, sorry." Donnovan shook his head. He stepped to the side, pulled the door open for her, and waited. Adriana looked at him in surprise, her eyes widening.

"Uh… Yeah… Gracias." She muttered before walking inside. Donnovan shrugged to himself as he followed her inside.

The bar reminded him of the one in New Columbus, except cleaner and more friendly. Adriana took a seat at the bar, and figuring that they were already slightly acquainted, Donnovan took a seat next to her. She glanced at him suspiciously but said nothing.

"Adri," the bartender greeted her warmly. "The usual?"

"Sure," she said, grinning. "Gracias, Jim."

He chuckled and turned to the row of bottles on the wall. He looked at Donnovan. "That's the only word I know in Spanish," he joked. "If I were to get thrown in Mexico at any time, I'd be in pretty good shape!"

"Next you can try talking to a Super Mutant." Donnovan suggested.

Still chuckling, the bartender poured Adriana a drink with what appeared to be  
rum and Nuka-Cola and pushed it towards her. At Donnovan's statement, he paused. "Say what?"

"Get high off of paint thinner, scream psychotically and incomprehensibly, and wave your arms around like a fucking broken windmill. Maybe punch yourself a few times so you get the full effect on your brain." Donnovan suggested with a grin.

The bartender chuckled appreciatively, while Adriana shot Donnovan a curious glance. "New in town?" The bartender asked.

"Is it that obvious? I wanted to put on a 10 gallon hat, but couldn't find it. Would that have made me blend in?" Donnova joked.

The bartender laughed. "What would you like?"

"Well, I was thinking beer." Donnovan said, the bottles arranged on a shelf behind the bartender catching his eye. "But I think I'll try something else. That whiskey?"

"Yep, a few different kinds. This, Barnes', is the cheapest. Small company based out of the Hub." The bartender stated, pointing out a light grey-labeled bottle.

"What about that?" Donnovan asked, pointing out a half-filled bottle. It was amber with a blue label across it.

"Good eye." The bartender grinned. "That's the most expensive, Johnnie Walker Blue. The family that makes it has been around since the pre-war years, so people say."

"No shit?" Donnovan asked.

"Yep. The family apparently survived. They come by every month or so to sell their drinks. Only have a bottle or two usually. Guess it's hard to make. But hey, if you think the Gun Runners keep their activities private? They've got nothing on the Walker family. None of them go anywhere without three or four bodyguards."

"Holy hell." Donnovan raised an eyebrow as the bartender showed him the bottle. "Know where they're located?"

"Deep in NCR territory, in a massive building surrounded by barbed-wire fences, dogs, and armed guards." The bartender explained. Donnovan was about to laugh, when the bartender went on. "I'm serious. This stuff is very well known across the West. If they've had their methods down for centuries like everyone says, they're obviously going to protect their secrets. Oh, I'm sorry, I've been blathering. Would you like some?"

"Hey, no problem." Donnovan smiled. "That's good info, I like learning about things like that. And yes, please."

"It's very, VERY expensive." The bartender warned him. "50 caps a glass."

"Better be damn good whiskey," he grumbled, counting out fifty caps.

"Wait, seriously?" sputtered the bartender, staring at the money on the bar in front of him.

"Sure," he said. "Pour me one."

The bartender slid him the drink and wandered off with the caps, looking rather bemused. Adriana burst into giggles.

"You must be a rich man, senor," she chuckled. "You really have that kind of money to spend on whiskey?"

He shrugged and took a sip of his fifty-cap drink. He was instantly taken aback by the richness of its flavor. It was very strong and very pleasing; it burned briefly in his throat. The warmth spread through his body and for a moment he wondered if he'd gone to whiskey heaven. Blinking, he set his glass  
down and smiled.

"Hey, it's really, really good," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Man, booze is booze," she said. "I don't taste the difference. If it's cold, it's okay in my book."

"You're missing out, friend," he smirked. He took another sip of his drink. "Getting trashed is one thing. Enjoying a good scotch is another."

"You're a crazy pendejo," she said. "Well, at least Jimbo's happy."

"Jimbo?"

"The bartender. For a smartass, you're pretty dense," she said.

"Thanks." Donnovan raised an eyebrow sarcastically.

"So I know your name, and where you're from… Even if I didn't, you'd stick out from the crowd here."

"How so?" Donnovan asked, taking a sip of his scotch.

"Well for one, you're drinking some really expensive stuff." Adriana pointed out. "Plenty of others noticed that. Take a look around."

Donnovan briefly gazed across the bar. Several people were indeed looking curiously at him.

"Fair point. I suppose not many people buy that." Donnovan admitted.

"Yeah." Adriana nodded. "Also, you held the door open for me."

"Should I not have?" Donnovan asked, frowning.

"And how you talk…"

"I'm not following you."

"Only the New Canaanites talk like that, and hold doors open like that. And you're not one of them."

"Okay, fair point. But what are you getting at?"

"You're just really out of place. There's more to you than what you've said."

"I could say the same about you, or anyone in this bar, I'll bet. That's a pretty generic statement." Donnovan stated, finishing the rest of his whiskey, looking at Adriana the whole time. The conversation was now straying to Donnovan's exact point of origin. To give himself a few more moments to prepare, Donnovan lit up a cigarette.

"So… You noticed all of that… And…?"

"Where are you from in D.C.?"

"Around." Donnovan answered curtly.

"Okay, fine. But why do you talk so… so… articulately?"

"I grew up reading a lot. My town had a lot of books."

"Computers too?" Adriana asked, her face attempting to hide a smirk.

Donnovan laughed. This girl was obviously wasteland-wise. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, he was still feeling cautious, remembering the last time he had a run in with a mysterious, attractive woman.

Donnovan paused before answering her question with another, completely different question. "How about I get you another beer?"

The girl looked at him, her expression unchanged. "So you do have common sense."

"It has a tendency to leave me at inopportune times, but yes I do, for the most part." Donnovan stated, getting the attention of the bartender and ordering two beers.

"So you are pretty dense, either way." She gave a short laugh.

"Cut me some slack, I've been walking more in a span of months than you probably have your whole life," he said, shrugging.

"Might want to reconsider your words," she said, taking a sip of her rum and Nuka. "I've walked here from California and back, and I've been places you wouldn't dream of. I've done my fair share of walking, friend."

"Part of your work, huh?" he chuckled. The alcohol was making him a little silly.

"I'm a courier," she said offhandedly. "Not by choice, but whatever. The Legion won't touch couriers, anyway, and I get to see places."

"Sounds like a good setup," he said. "But I'm willing to bet I've seen some things you haven't, as well."

"Like what?" Adriana asked, a tone of disbelief in her voice.

"Well." Donnovan paused, taking an infuriatingly long drag on his cigarette. "Ever heard of the 'Richardson Re-Education Institution'?"

.

.

.

**Author's note: As I have mentioned before, I have been calling the weapons by their real world names for the most part. The 10 millimeter pistol, though in look resembling a Desert Eagle, cannot be one, as Desert Eagles do not fire 10 mm rounds. This being the case, I stuck with its Fallout universe name, the N99.**

**Also, the AER9 is the in-game name of Fallout's "Laser Rifle".**

**The Fallout 3 and New Vegas "Sniper Rifle" is a rather generic looking rifle, and looks similar to the Dragunov SVD, Armalite AR30, and to a lesser extent, the RAMO M600. But because the M600 fires .50 BMG, and the Dragunov fires 7.62 rounds, those are out. We know the in-game "sniper rifle" fires .308 ammo, as does the AR30, so I went with that choice.**

**The Mp10, which has been previously mentioned, is the real world equivalent of Fallout's 10mm Submachine gun.**

**FNV's "Hunting Shotgun" is the Remington 870, obviously.**

**FNV's "Marksman Carbine" is essentially an M4 which has had the living hell customized out of it.**

**The real world equivalent of FNV's "9mm Pistol" is the Browning Hi-Power, also known as the P-35.**

**The M1911 is just that... an M1911.**

**.**

**.  
**

**I'd also like to thank BeGodlyBeLynn again for her help and input. She's been working with me on a certain project, the details of which might be announced soon. :D**

**The story is winding to a close. I thank you all again, for reading.  
**


	37. Change of Pace

**Part 37 – Change of Pace**

Donnovan had lounged around in bed until the afternoon, wanting to fully take advantage of the comfortable bed and the peaceful town. He had tried convincing himself to lie there longer, but remembered that he had a letter from Strelok to deliver to a local courier office. He realized that he could also finally send the letter back to New Jerusalem, which he had been trying to do for months now. This, coupled with the realization that he could purchase one of the beautiful, New Canaanite M1911s, finally got him out of bed.

He exited the inn to find Glade and Rockfowl off to the right, exercising through some light sparring. Dusk was standing nearby, and she held something out to Donnovan as he stepped off of the deck.

"Morgan's still sleeping, but she said to give this to you." Dusk thrust Donnovan's scoped .44 magnum towards him.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that thing." Donnovan nodded, accepting the revolver and looking over it. It was a good weapon to have in battle. However, during the brief time it was in the hands of a now dead Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel soldier, it had almost killed Donnovan as well. He had been carrying the empty holster without realizing it. Donnovan secured his revolver.

"Where you headed?" Dusk asked.

Donnovan glanced up and down the street, hoping to spot his first destination. "I need find that courier office Strelok mentioned. Gotta deliver his letter, then hopefully send out this damn thing." Donnovan flicked the edge of his own letter to New Jerusalem. It had been completed for a very long time, now.

"Good luck with that." Dusk shrugged, turning back to watch Glade and Rockfowl spar.

After getting directions, Donnovan found the courier office he was looking for: a clean, brown-brick building with blue, metallic doors. A lighted sign above the doorway read "Jones' Messenger Service". Donnovan entered the office to find an old-looking but clean lobby, complete with file cabinets, and a receptionist's desk.

"Welcome to J.M.S.!" The receptionist, a redheaded young woman with a beaming smile, welcomed Donnovan.

Donnovan walked up to her. "Yeah, hi. I need to send a letter, and to drop one off. Your boss here?"

"Um, yes, Mr. Jones is here. Would you like to see about your letter first?" The receptionist asked very professionally.

Donnovan nodded. "Yes, please."

"Hey, Roger." The receptionist turned to a pale, black-haired man looking through a file cabinet against the wall.

"What?" He asked, annoyed.

"I've got a job for you. To… where is it again, sir?" The receptionist glanced at Donnovan.

"New Jerusalem." He answered. The receptionist stared.

"Yeah, fuck that." Roger grunted, going back to his work.

"Some kind of courier you are." Donnovan frowned.

"Bitch, please." Roger scoffed, "I'm a freelance courier, and I do what I want." He laughed. Donnovan noticed a Browning bolt-action rifle on his back, and a N99 in a hip holster. "I work mainly for the Mojave Express. They pay more than this dump, anyway."

"If you don't like it, leave." The receptionist said, annoyed.

"Maybe I should." Roger muttered. "I'm way better known in and out of the Mojave anyway, especially New Reno. Hell, I heard from one of the desk jockeys in Primm that Mr. House might contract the M. E. for something big. I wanna get that job before that jackass Wyand does." With that, the man looked at the receptionist. "So yeah, where's my money, so I can go?"

"Here." The receptionist sneered, holding a bag of caps out to Roger. He grabbed it rudely and sauntered out of the office just as another man entered. He was sweating and eyes red, dust caught in his thick beard.

"Hey Jenny." The man offered a weak smile. "I'm gonna head up to the company break room and crash. Don't ever send me on that long of a journey again."

"No problem, Craig." Jenny giggled. "I'll have your payment ready when you wake up."

"That was tiring as all hell." Craig wheezed as he rounded a corner and began to ascend a set of stairs.

Jenny the Receptionist turned back towards Donnovan. "Right, sorry about that." She apologized. "Well, let me see who we can get for you. Oh, by the way, who is that letter from?"

Donnovan glanced at the letter he was supposed to deliver. "Oh, some dude named Strelok in Dogtown."

"Oh my goodness!" Jenny perked up. "Mr. Jones has been waiting for that! Go on back, his office is the door at the end of the hall!"

Donnovan thanked Jenny and made his way down the hallway. As he approached the door, he through of what the arrogant and rude courier had said about New Reno and Mr. House. He knew who Mr. House was from what he had read back in Vault 101. The eccentric founder of RobCo Industries, he had been one of the wealthiest men in the world before the bombs dropped. He had heard whispers before of Mr. House still living, but didn't believe them. The Great War had started and ended over two hundred years ago, and if the bombs hadn't killed him, old age had to have. He hadn't heard much else from his Brotherhood comrades either, as Lyons' force had bypassed New Vegas on their way to Washington D.C. His stowed his thoughts about Mr. House as he knocked on the door.

"Enter." Came a deep voice.

Donnovan did as he was told, and walked into a well-light, decorated office. A heavy-set man with a mustache, beard, and wispy hair, all white, was seated behind a mahogany desk, typing on a computer. Filing cabinets lined the walls, and a flag showing a two headed bear on a white canvas hung behind him.

"Mr. Jones?" Donnovan asked, tearing his eyes away from the words "New California Republic" on the flag.

"Who are you?" Mr. Jones asked, his brow furrowed.

"The receptionist sent me back here." Donnovan held out the letter. "This is from Strelok in Dogtown."

"Oh! Strelok!" Mr. Jones' eyes lit up. "I apologize, sit down, please!" He indicated a chair facing his desk.

Donnovan sat down and handed the letter over. "He asked me to give this to you."

"Ah, young Strelok." Mr. Jones nodded fondly. "I recall when he first wandered in here. I gave him some cash, some strong words, and advice. He wanted to pay me back, but I told him if we stayed in contact, that would be good enough. I thought he had forgotten."

Donnovan sat quietly, listening, when suddenly. Mr. Jones perked up.

"My goodness, I haven't offered to pay you! And I do not know your name! Where are my manners?" He put his hand to his forehead. "How much for this?"

"No charge, sir." Donnovan shook his head. "Honestly, I was headed this way anyway. And my name's Donnovan."

"Oh," Mr. Jones said thoughtfully. "Well, Donnovan. Are you certain?"

"Yes sir." Donnovan insisted. "No charge."

Mr. Jones looked reluctant. "Well alright, is there anything I can do for you?"

"Actually, yes." Donnovan nodded. "I've been trying to hire a courier to send a letter way back east to New Jerusalem, but no one seems to have the ability or desire."

"I see. That is a long way." Mr. Jones nodded. "Yeah, we asked some guy named Roger, but he insulted your business and left." Donnovan shrugged.

"I never did like him." Mr. Jones admitted. "Those Mojave couriers are rather arrogant, don't you think?"

Donnovan nodded in agreement. "I haven't known enough of them to judge."

Mr. Jones scratched his head, his eyes looking up at the ceiling as he thought about some options. "It is such a long journey… and an expensive one."

Donnovan knew that Mr. Jones had someone in mind, but was reluctant to make an offer. "I have enough caps for the delivery, I'm sure."

"Well…" Jones squirmed. "There is one…but I'd have to get her consent, you understand…and she can be very…stubborn."

"Give it your best shot," Donnovan said. "Please."

Jones sighed. "Okay," he said. "I'll have to wait for her to show up."

"What's her name?"

"Oh, she's from California. Her name's Adriana—"

"I heard my name."

Donnovan spun around to see Adriana in the doorway, looking at the both of them curiously.

"Ah yes, Miss Munoz. Come on in." Mr. Jones smiled. "You were missing some paperwork from your last delivery?"

"Si," Adriana apologized. "I have it here. I really am sorry."

"It's no problem. You work well, and this is a not a big deal." Mr. Jones waved away the apology. "However, I do have another job for you, if you are interested." He turned to Donnovan. "Donnovan, this is…"

"Adriana… Munoz." Donnovan said, making sure to emphasize the pause between the first and last names. He stood up to face the young woman, who looked both mildly surprised and mildly annoyed at him for making fun of her again.

"Donnovan. What are you doing here?"

Donnovan grinned "Delivery."

"To where?" Adriana turned to Mr. Jones.

"New Jerusalem…" Mr. Jones mentioned awkwardly. "Of course, it's your choice. I will not force any of my employees to go that far if they do not want to."

Adriana paused for a moment, deep in thought. Though she was silent, Donnovan felt like he already knew the answer. "No…I can't." Adriana shook her head. "I won't. I'm sorry."

"Figures." Donnovan exhaled, sitting back down but showing no signs of annoyance.

"You're not the only one with people counting on you," Adriana retorted, narrowing her eyes.

He backed off, sensing the edge to her voice. "Alright, alright. Sorry. Simmer down." he said. "It's just…never mind."

"The Mojave Express outside of New Vegas should be able to take care of that for you." Mr. Jones offered. "It's even further. I could, of course, hold the letter and wait for another courier to get it, if that's what you'd prefer."

"I think I'll handle it in the Mojave," Donnovan said. "But thank you."

"Of course, thank you for bringing me this." Mr. Jones said. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

"No worries. I'll just send it when I get to Vegas, like you mentioned." Donnovan waved his hand dismissively. "However, I do have one question."

"Yes?"

"Why the N.C.R. flag back there?" Donnovan pointed. As Mr. Jones turned to glance at the flag, Donnovan could've sworn he saw Adriana give a slight sneer.

"I was born in the New California Republic, near the Hub." Mr. Jones smiled, turning back. "Moved here a long time ago around when they first started fighting with the Brotherhood of Steel."

"I see." Donnovan nodded. "Well, I'll try New Vegas. Thank you for your time."

It wasn't surprising to Donnovan, given his run of luck so far. He had stayed alive through everything that had happened on this trip, so his outlook was rather positive, despite the annoyance having to do with his letter. There was something else that would make him much happier, as well. His eyes fell upon the building of interest, wringing his hands in anticipation as he stepped forward. He was slightly nervous, wondering how this sort of situation was handled in a peaceful town like this. He knew it would be expensive, but since he hadn't done this in so long, it would be worth it. A bell rang as he stepped inside the old, dusty building. As he walked to the front desk, he spotted what he was looking for.

"That is… the sexiest thing I have ever seen." Donnovan gaped.

The man behind the desk laughed. "They are indeed beautiful, aren't they?"

"They look completely… clean! You never see that anymore!"

"Well, there are places around New Vegas where they're this clean, but you have to pay a lot. It's rare to find them in this condition. You can touch if you want."

Donnovan reached out and ran his finger along the smooth, clear surface.

Donnovan stared at the beautiful wooden grips of the M1911 "Can I hold it, please?"

"You seem like a serious customer." The shopkeeper gave another laugh. "Be my guest."

Donnovan took the pistol off of the wall mount and examined it thoroughly, looking through the sights. "How much is this?"

"They are pricey in that condition, I'm afraid." The shopkeeper explained. "That particular one costs fourteen hundred caps."

Donnovan winced. "Well shit… I'm about two hundred short."

"I can sell you a used one for eight hundred, if you like." The shopkeeper offered.

Donnovan put the pistol back onto the wall. "Nah, I'm gonna go scrounge up the remainder if I can, excuse me."

.

.

.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Glade asked, his mouth open as Donnovan dug through his belongings for anything he could sell to make up for the two hundred cap deficit.

Donnovan was mostly distracted. "Ah, here's a .32 I took from that dead cultist… That'll probably work… Sorry, what?"

Glade shook his head. "Fourteen hundred caps… It had better be an awesome gun."

Donnovan looked up at Glade. "It will be. I've read a ton about them back in the vault." He returned his attention to his search. "John Browning made the first one, along with a shitload of other weapons and… where's that fucking ammo case?"

"This I HAVE to see." Glade shook his head.

Donnovan nodded, still rifling through his belongings excitedly. "Sure, come along so you'll shut the hell up."

Glade opened his arms in frustration. "How can you seriously consider dropping that much on a sidearm? Don't you have that .44?"

Donnovan suddenly perked up. "WAIT! Dusk grabbed a bunch of shit in Dogtown."

"Are you even listening to me?" Glade asked as Donnovan tossed his things back into a haphazard pile in the corner.

"I… what? Dude, I'm telling you." Donnovan asked, distracted, as he walked out the door of the room. "It'll be worth it."

Several minutes of pleading later, after which he promised to let Dusk shoot the M1911 once he got it, Donnovan stepped out of the inn, holding a pair of N99s, one to cover the cap deficit, the other to buy ammo. Glade had convinced Yearling to come with them. Yearling, seeing Donnovan's ebullient state, decided to join them. She saw the potential entertainment value, knowing that whenever Donnovan and Glade headed somewhere, something stupid or hilarious, usually both, would soon follow.

Glade followed him. "I wonder if the shop has any accessories."

"If there are accessories, I'm sure I can find them in New Vegas." Donnovan pointed out, leading the way to the gun shop. "Sounds like everything's there. Hell, if not, I'll find a machinist."

Yearling laughed. "Just ask Olin. She'd probably be able to whip something up."

"Maybe. But I might want the originals." Donnovan grunted.

Glade raised an eyebrow as they passed one of the town entrances. "Originals? Yeah, good luck digging up old, pre-war gun accessories and expecting them to work."

"You know what I mean."

Yearling smiled. "Okay, so I think Glade's right and you're wasting your money, but your enthusiasm's kind of contagious…"

Glade lightly pushed Donnovan. "Would you stop grinning at everything? You're stoked, we get it."

"Man, you have no idea. I've wanted one of these since I first read about them back in the vault when I was thirteen." Donnovan rattled off. "It's definitely-"

"MAKE WAY! MAKE WAY!" A new voice reached their ears. Glade and Donnovan both stopped and looked at the town gates to see a surprising sight.

Two New Canaanites were supporting a third, walking him forward. The third man was bleeding rather heavily. His clothes were peppered with holes left by several bullets, and his face was deathly pale.

"We need a doctor!" one of the men cried.

"Here!" Yearling called out. The two men glanced at each other briefly.

"You want him to bleed out?" Yearling exclaimed, her usually laid back demeanor disappearing immediately. "Put him on this bench, dammit!"

Yearling, though very friendly, was someone who dropped all pretense of social tact when it came to medical work. She was very skilled, being able to zone out any distractions. Though she did have tendency to be blunt when situations like these arose, when people listened to her, lives were usually saved.

The two men did as commanded, and put their injured comrade on a nearby wooden bench.

"What happened?" Glade asked one of them as Yearling looked over him.

Yearling put her pack down. She craned her hand behind her. "Don. Knife."

"Here." Donnovan unsheathed his knife and put it into her hands. Yearling quickly tore away the bloody shirt over the man's wounds for easier access, revealing a punctured but mostly intact torso. She handed Donnovan the knife back, and dug through her pack, bringing up a roll of gauze and several disinfectants. "What are you policies on drugs?" Yearling looked up at one of the men as she donned a pair of disposable gloves.

"We don't use them for recreation." He explained, his face white with concern for his friend. "But if it's for medical reasons…"

"That's all I needed." Yearling answered curtly. She brought up a syringe of Med-X. Very professionally, she flicked the needle to get rid of the air bubbles before injecting it into the man. "Don, hold his right arm. Glade, legs. You, what's your name?"

"William." The man addressed, answered.

"Okay William." Yearling nodded, tearing off an unsullied piece of the injured man's shirt. "Hold this in both hands, put the middle in his mouth so he has something to bite down on. Keep his head still."

"What about the drug?" William said, accepting the rag and positioning himself above his friend's head.

"It will help, but it hasn't taken full effect. We can't really afford to wait."

William nodded, and did as he was told. With him, Glade, and Donnovan holding down the injured man, Yearling went to work.

The second man turned to Glade, answering his question after the long delay. "We were leaving from one of our missions, and two White Legs attacked us."

"White Legs?"

"A local tribe." The William explained as he held his friend's head steady. "We've been attempting to create some good relationships with the tribes around here. Most of them are relatively friendly: the Dead Horses, the Sorrows."

"The White Legs have always been a bit rough, but they've never actually attacked outright." The other man shook his head. "This was a planned ambush."

Donnovan winced, looking away as Yearling carefully dug into the man's wounds with her sterile tools. "Urgh… What did you do?"

"We had to fire back." The man said defensively. "We killed them. We try not to, but…" He trailed off.

"Dude, don't worry." Donnovan said, still looking away from Yearling's work area. "You guys are the most polite people I've ever damn met. If anyone attacks you for no reason, they deserve to get shot. Hell, it was self defense."

"We know." William said with regret. "We still try not to." He changed the subject as he saw Yearling wrapping gauze around the injured man. "Is he going to be okay?"

Yearling stripped away her gloves and tossed them into a small bag nearby. "He'll live. If you would've gotten here two minutes later, he wouldn't have. You guys are lucky."

"You are a godsend." William said, his eyes widening with emotion. "Thank you, so much."

"Just doing what I'm good at." Yearling said calmly, her demeanor returning to her calm state. She smiled warmly. "He should make a full recovery, but it will take some time. He was lucky, none of the three rounds broke his ribs."

"What should we do?" The second man asked.

"Nothing for the next few hours." Yearling shook her head. "Don't move him. Let him recover... Well, unless you can move the whole bench somewhere."

"We can! We can move him inside." The man said.

"Okay, you can go ahead and let him lay here for an hour or two, still." Yearling nodded, Donnovan spraying some antiseptic onto her hands. "After that, you can carefully put him wherever. Make him comfortable, but don't move him from the bench for a day or two. Oh, and change the bandages every day, alright?"

"Yes, of course… Thank you, honestly. Thank you so much!" The man said, his expression one of absolute happiness.

"Hey, like Don said, you guys seem like you take care of others. Just repaying the favor." Yearling shrugged.

"Is there anything we can do for you?" The other New Canaanite asked.

"Honestly… If I can just refill the medical supplies I used on him, that'd be nice. I don't want to impose."

"That goes without saying." The man smiled. "We will give you some extra, just as a show of appreciation."

"Well, I won't insult you by saying no." Yearling smiled.

Dononovan laughed and looked around. Several New Canaanites had gathered around them, and were looking with appreciation at the group. Amongst them, Donnovan noticed the shop keeper from earlier and, much to his surprise, Adriana.

"What's up?" Donnovan asked as he let go of the injured man's arm and stood up, Adriana's expression making him curious.

She was looking at Donnovan, Glade, and Yearling with a combination of confusion, surprise, and disbelief on her face. She continued to stand there, looking on at them for a full minute before turning and walking away.

Glade traced Donnovan's gaze, seeing his friend's surprised and confused face following Adriana's path. "Really, Don? Another one?" Glade joked.

Donnovan shook his head. "What? No. I met her earlier. Did you see the way she was looking at us?"

Yearling shrugged. "Why do you care?"

"Dunno." Donnovan said thoughtfully, watching Adriana disappear down a side street. As she did so, he could have sworn he saw her put her hand to her forehead.

"You're not the typical travelers." The gunshop owner Donnovan had met earlier stepped forward. "Most people would've frozen up, or stayed clear. You jumped in and helped."

"We've seen enough combat of our own to know how to react." Yearling said.

"Besides, you guys don't seem like douches, if you'll pardon the term." Glade shrugged, being his usual, less-than-eloquent self.

The gunshop owner laughed. "Well, I know your friend here was looking at a .45 earlier. I'll give you three a bit of a discount, if you like. Not many people would do what you did."

Yearling looked interested, while Donnovan and Glade almost shook with delight.

A half hour later, Donnovan, Glade, and Yearling were in high spirits. Glade had purchased a drum-magazine shotgun with a wooden stock. Yearling, as a reward for saving the New Canaanite's life, walked out with more medical supplies than she had when she arrived, along with a brand new set of medical knives and scalpels that the injured man's wife had given her as a reward. Donnovan, meanwhile, was lost in his own mind as he stared at the beautiful, clean M1911 in his hands. The shopkeeper was nice enough to drop four hundred caps from the price. While it still almost cleaned Donnovan out, after selling the .32 revolver and the pair of N99s, he had enough caps to purchase plenty of ammunition for the pistol, as well as top off the 7.62 ammo for his AK-47. He stowed his spare .45 and 7.62 rounds, and decided to head back to the local bar to celebrate, not wanting to delay partaking in a particular vice. He was at the door before he realized that all of this time, he had been carrying a significant amount of .44 magnum rounds, as well as the revolver itself after Dusk had given it back to him.

It was too late to go back. At least this is what he convinced himself now that he was sitting at the bar counter, talking with the same bartender from the previous night. Word had gotten around town about the actions of the three travelers who saved a New Canaanite, so several people were looking curiously at him. Donnovan mostly ignored them, already used to the fact that the Corps had gotten strange looks in almost every settlement they had been in. Donnovan had finished one glass of Jonnie Walker Blue, and the bartender had just placed another glass in front of him, when there was a cacophony of noise outside. Shouts and warnings could be heard in the streets, and most of the bar patrons looked curiously outside. Donnovan was wondering if another New Canaanite had been shot, when a burst of sound threw every other thought out the window. The unmistakable crack of a rifle shot resounded through the streets, immediately answered by a rapid series of pops resounding from what had to be an automatic weapon. The attitude of everyone in the bar changed immediately as the patrons tensed up, remaining seated but keeping their hands near their weapons. Donnovan himself ignored the delicious whiskey sitting on the bar in front of him to his great pain, and turned to face the entrance. As he slowly swung his AK-47 from his back and painstakingly pulled back the bolt, two traders in the bar stood up and made their way to the entrance with caution. As they reached the door, gunfire exploded from the outside. Hot lead tore through the two men, sending them spinning to the ground as small mists of blood sprayed from their bodies. Two, pale women entered the bar, their faces painted in fearsome, red and white patterns. Their dark hair hung in a dread-lock style over their faces. They were almost completely nude, save for strips of brown leather and furs covering the necessary regions. In their arms, they held rough-looking Thompson submachine guns.

"DELLA!" One of the women cried, as she and her partner opened fire on the bar. Donnovan immediately vaulted and rolled awkwardly over the bar, having been in a position to do so before the women entered. The other patrons were less lucky, as they had been too surprised to react in time. En masse, they were cut down by the submachine guns while attempting to stand or fire back. Donnovan glanced up and grabbed his glass of whiskey, catching sight of a man dressed in the same garb as the women come into the bar behind them. The Jonnie Walker Blue Label glass was half empty, Donnovan having spilled some of it during his quick grab. He swirled it in the glass before briefly downing the rest, wondering how he would get out of the situation as bullets impacted the bar and the bottles on the shelves above. Donnovan winced as the bottle of Jonnie Walker Blue Label took a .45 round and exploded in a shower of glass. There was a lull, during which the pained groans and coughs of injured bar patrons filled the air. With a glance at the bartender's head, which had taken two rounds to the nasal cavity, Donnovan realized that the claustrophobic bar counter would prove problematic for his AK-47, and he carefully stowed it on his back, drawing his new M1911 in the process. He slid along behind the bar, and peered out from the corner. One of the women kicked aside a bar table for a line of sight at a man who had been peppered with multiple rounds. The man raised a blood-soaked hand as a feeble form of defense, watching the woman slowly drop the spent magazine and affix a fresh one. Slowly, she put the barrel of the gun inches from the man's forehead.

"Chindi…" She hissed, briefly pulling the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the bar, and the man's head impacted hard with the wooden floor, leaving a splash of blood on the planks. Donnovan waited until she turned away, looking for other victims. He then examined the other two mysterious people, who he could only describe as "tribals". The man was walking towards the bar, a curious look on his face as he eyed the spilled whiskey on the counter, while the second woman was looking at her gun in admiration. Doing a quick, mental rundown, Donnovan noticed that there was only one empty magazine on the floor, meaning that the second woman hadn't changed hers yet.

Donnovan went back behind the counter and checked his rifle again. "First the dude, then the talky one, then the dumb bitch…" He mouthed the words silently, closing his eyes briefly. "Do not fail me, John Browning" he added as an afterthought. Then, with a deep breath he stood up out of cover, his pistol sights set on the male.

The man's eyes widened in surprise. His gun being at his side, he had no time to raise it before Donnovan fired twice. The rounds tore through the man's exposed chest and sent him falling flat onto the floor, knocking over an table in the process. The second woman turned, her eyes seeing her comrade fall. This split-second delay was all Donnovan needed as he sent three quick shots at his second target. She, unlike her now deceased comrade, had her gun at the ready. As two of the three rounds hit her, the submachine gun went off, a spray of lead destroying a chunk of the bar inches to Donnovan's left. Not thinking about how lucky he had been, Donnovan turned his attention to the third target as the previous one tumbled to the floor, dead. The surviving tribal panicked, and attempted to wrench the drum magazine from her submachine gun. She had just managed to drop it, when Donnovan carefully put a single round between her eyes. Her body went limp as the round hit her and she crumpled to the floor into an awkward pile like a ragdoll. With a brief check to make sure his targets were dead, Donnovan dropped his pistol clip and reached into his pockets, attempting to fill in the spent rounds before he went outside, where by the sound of it, a massive battle was raging.

As he did a once over to make sure he was ready, also admiring his handiwork with the help of his M1911, the moans of the injured patrons came back to his ears. He had managed to zone them out during his brief fight, but now they came back with full force. Donnovan paused for a moment, his heart aching to help the people, but Morgan's words came back to him: "We have to take care of our own." His friends were mostly likely somewhere out there in this mess. With a pained expression, Donnovan managed to make himself exit the bar.

The streets were in chaos. Bodies were littered everywhere, and fire raged through the town. Screams could be heard from all directions, and gunfire of all sorts echoed loudly to the backdrop of the church bell ringing. Not wanting to become a stationary target, Donnovan quickly made his way forward, staying low alongside a small, mostly decorative stone wall on his right, keeping buildings to his left. As he stepped through the space between two buildings, a shout went up.

"Anaihla!"

Donnovan turned to see two more tribals standing several yards away, one pointing at him. Immediately, he dove over the stone wall as the tribals opened fire, the bullets loudly impacting and ricocheting off of the rocks. Donnovan swung his AK-47 up and unleashed a volley of blindfire, emptying his entire clip. He let the AK-47 hang by its straps as he straightened up, aiming his pistol. One of his targets had taken cover behind the corner of one of the buildings, while the other lay in a spreading pool of blood on the ground, clutching two gaping holes in his torso. Donnovan raised his M1911, when there was a rush of movement to his left. A woman leapt over the low rock wall, landing next to him.

"Don't shoot, I'm not one of them!" She shouted, throwing her hands up in the air.

Donnovan lowered his weapon. "Adriana?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah," she said. She was close to tears. "Donnovan?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Fucking hell, I keep running into you." They ducked behind the wall, shell-shocked. There was a shout, and from where Adriana had come running, a tribal appeared, roaring ferociously. Adriana and Donnovan popped up and unloaded into the man, several rounds ripping through him and sending him to the ground a bloody mess.

"Holy shit," she said after catching her breath. "I never thought I'd wake up to...to  
this."

"Town's gone to hell," he said. He shot up from behind the wall again and caught the tribal that had been hiding, off guard. Two shots from his pistol, and the woman lay motionless on the ground, while her companion's movements grew weaker as he bled out. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know," she said. She wiped a tear out of her eye. "I think they're White Legs. I don't get it. They left us alone up until now."

"Huh, so these are the White Legs. Well, they've certainly done a number on the town," he remarked, replacing the clips in his pistol and rifle. "We can't stay."

"I know. I'm booking it east as soon as I get the chance."

"East?" echoed Donnovan. "Why east?"

She shrugged. "It feels right," she said. "I have a package to deliver, and  
then...I don't know. I might go back to Nevada." She looked over at him. "Where's that letter to New Jerusalem? I'll take it. Might as well."

"Seriously, all that way?" Donnovan asked. "Well, okay..." He pulled the battered envelope out of his bag and handed it to her. She stuffed it down her shirt and sighed.

"Nice knowing you, Donnovan Edan," she said.

"Wait," he said. "What about...that thing you were talking about? The guy you were waiting for? You can come on West with us," he offered.

She shook her head. "I don't see the point," she said quietly. "I don't think  
it's worth a shot. It's been two years since I saw him last."

"Two years?" he echoed. "Damn."

Adriana looked into her pockets. "Carajo!" She cursed.

"What?"

"I only have about two clips left." She said in exasperation, softly hitting her head against the rock wall.

After a short pause, Donnovan quickly began to undo his belt. "Hold up."

She glared at him. "What… the HELL are you doing?"

"Hold… up…" Donnovan reiterated, leaning up and sliding a leather holster off of his belt. In it, his scoped .44 revolver was sitting snugly. "Here." He held out the pistol.

Adriana stared at it. "Don't you need it?"

"Well, I wouldn't want you to lose it, let's put it that way… But you need the thing more than I do." Donnovan said as he forced the pistol into her hands. He dug into the pockets of his black tactical vest, bringing up several boxes of ammunition. "Turn around."

Adriana, still somewhat in shock as this generous act, let herself be steered as Donnovan pulled her backpack toward him and hastily dropped the boxes inside.

"Are you sure?" Adriana asked hesitantly, though she still affixed the holster and revolver to her own belt as she did so.

Donnovan spun her back around. "You need that if you're really going that far. Just don't shoot yourself with it, or get shot by it or anything… It fucking hurts… Believe me, I know…" His hand instinctively went to the wound between his shoulder and pectoral muscle. He briefly turned and looked over the rock wall, scanning the area for any more White Legs.

Adriana briefly glanced at Donnovan, the same expression on her face that she had worn when he and his comrades helped the New Canaanite, before looking away. "I've waited two years… But not any longer. There's nothing for him to find here but flames," she said bitterly, looking around. "Well, I'm getting out while the going's good. Maybe we'll see each other again."

"Maybe," he replied with a nod. "Thank you, Adriana."

"Please, it's Adri to you," she said with a ghost of a smile. "Until next time."

With that, she climbed nimbly over the rock wall and scrambled off, disappearing from sight.

Donnovan sat for several seconds, wondering where he could go next and not be shot at. He had just began to think about how his companions might be doing, when the question was answered for him. At the far end of the rock wall that turned into an alley, the Corps had reappeared. Donnovan waved excitedly. In response, Dusk raised her rifle.

Donnovan frantically waved his arms, in a panic. "NO! Fuck, it's me!"

Dusk's rifle cracked, and Donnovan heard a small thud nearby. He turned to see a crumpled body of a White Legs warrior sending dust up into the air. Dusk had put a .308 round directly into the heart of the tribal, who had apparently climbed the roof of a nearby house. That being enough of a signal for him, Donnovan sprinted forward towards his comrades.

.

.

.

**Author's Note:**

**Again, the .45 pistol here is the M1911. For those of you wondering, yes, the famous M1911 was indeed designed by a Mormon (as the Burned Man correctly states in Honest Hearts), the famous John Browning. Just a fun fact: the guy also designed the Browning Automatic Rifle, a staple in almost every single World War II video game in existence.**

**Also, I mentioned a Browning bolt action rifle here. This is Fallout's "Hunting Rifle". The damn thing looks so generic and broken down, that it could be one of any bolt-action rifles. I stuck with Browning due to the real-world region (he had a gunsmith shop in Ogden) and the Fallout region's Browning weapons.**

**The .45 auto submachine guns in New Vegas are pretty much carbon copies of the Thompson submachine gun.**


	38. Looking Forward

**Part 38 – Looking Forward**

A far cry from the peaceful town of New Canaan, rocky canyons and pathways marked the expedition's path to the south. For days on end it seemed, they traveled and traveled. Despite Donnovan's protests, they had bypassed the canyon they had come across on their way to New Canaan, and continued on, Morrill deciding it would be much faster to press on without delay.

The flight from the burning New Canaan seemed was nothing new for the expedition. It was almost a rule of some sort that the Corps of Rediscovery could never settle down and rest anywhere without some sort of violent event breaking up their time of recovery. Donnovan, Morgan, and Lyons were discussing this very topic a fortnight later, as the ground began to turn into dry dirt and sand. As they were traveling up along a set of rocky hills, Donnovan made the statement that was on everyone's mind.

"Ever notice that any town we go to, or anyone we meet, usually ends up getting fucked?"

Morgan shrugged. "Bad luck?"

"Well, it hasn't happened in Dogtown, at least." Lyons pointed out.

"Until we pass through there again." Donnovan raised an eyebrow. "Just wait, we're gonna come back to find that the dogs have killed everyone, or something."

"Or that the Legion burned it to the ground." Dusk joined the conversation.

Donnovan snickered. "Or an undetonated nuke blew what was left of the city to hell."

Glade grinned "Or the dogs killed everyone, and in response the Legion burned it to the ground, causing an unexploded nuke to go off."

Most of the group laughed at this, excluding Amata. She had been looking pale again since their escape. Donnovan, despite some terrifying first encounters, had gradually honed his craft fighting and surviving in the Capital Wasteland, Point Lookout, and the Pitt over the course of three years. Before that, he'd gotten his hands dirty on a daily basis in the reactor core of Vault 101. Amata, on the other hand, was a soft-skinned, fresh-out-of-the-Vault supervisor who'd hardly ever used her hands other than to type something in a computer. Amata on the other hand had been thrust into the chaos of it all, far too quickly. In less than a year, she had left the vault, had all of her first traveling companions slaughtered by a giant scorpion, had run several times from hordes of people who wanted to kill the expedition, and seen more death than she ever wanted to in her life. The sacking of New Canaan seemed to have finally broken her will, and despite Rockfowl and Olin's attempts to reassure her, she had closed off completely, staying completely silent for the journey.

Rockfowl, it seemed, had gotten over his distress over the adolescent ghouls back in the Richardson Re-education Institution, and was now back to his old, smiling self. Everyone knew he would most likely always carry that burden with him, but he had taken it in stride. Morgan, always stoic, hardly shaken, was no different now. She was as analytical as ever and had to remind Donnovan, again, that no one but those close to them mattered in the long run. Lyons had adopted this mantra many months ago, and was just as resolute as Morgan. Yearling and Olin had only grown more determined over the course of the journey. Olin, in particular, was determined to reach New Vegas and the promise of a few nights of undisturbed sleep for a change.

Dusk, Glade, and Donnovan, despite the initial shock, had taken their escape lightly, as usual. Despite this, the burning of the town affected Donnovan greatly. The image of the scared Courier running east for the town limits had shaken him more than he let on, and he covered his discomfort with his usual jokes and wisecracking. After New Canaan, it was becoming more difficult. Donnovan told his companions it was because of the shattered bottle of Jonnie Walker Blue Label. In truth, he was horrified at what had happened. New Canaan, possibly the last pocket of civilization and true humanity left in the world, had been swept bare in a matter of hours. He especially thought of the honest, hard-working people who had died, and began to wonder again if anything was worth the struggle anymore. Despite Morgan re-stating her mantra, Donnovan was disturbed. Those people had been tough, polite, and truly caring, and yet had fallen. It was almost a pattern of history. The curse of the forward thinking and enlightened, it seemed, was to be crushed by the armed and dumb. Donnovan's only solace was that at least that would never happen to a massive, well-defended place like New Vegas…

Despite his concern, he was still actively engaged in the conversation.

"So, okay, shall we count how many times shit like this has happened?" Donnovan offered.

Dusk laughed. "I don't think any of us have enough fingers and toes for that."

"I'm pissed I didn't get to go into Junction City." Glade said glumly.

"Hey, fuck you, you weren't the one who almost got handed to the fucking Midwesterners." Donnovan snapped, though he grinned nevertheless. He turned and almost ran into the rear end of the lone pack Brahmin the expedition had managed to keep alive this whole time. The entire group had stopped.

"Everyone! According to Morrill, we have reached the Mojave Wasteland!" Rockfowl called from the front of the group. He was standing on a ridge next to Morrill, who was looking ahead, his back to the others. "Ladies and Gentlemen…"

"And Donnovan…" Glade added.

Donnovan grinned and flipped him the bird.

"We have reached the end of these rocky passes. Though it is only the evening, I believe we should wait until night to head down."

Glade frowned. "Why?"

"Because from the looks of it, the best time to see it would be during the night." Rockfowl smiled, beckoning the others forward.

As Donnovan's line of sight cleared the ridge, his jaw dropped. A large expanse of flat dirt and sand stretched in all directions, with small groups of houses present here and there. The center of focus, however, was a massive cluster of buildings surrounded by a high wall. Tall, square buildings surrounded a massive illuminated tower that stretched far higher than anything else. A saucer-like shape at the end was capped off by a large radio antenna. Everything was lit up, no doubt visible for many miles. Rockfowl was correct; this would prove to be a spectacular sight when darkness fell.

"Welcome to New Vegas, my friends." Rockfowl smiled broadly.

Between hostile power armored soldiers, psychopathic cults, and hordes of ghouls, there was almost nothing the Corps of Rediscovery hadn't experienced. Their perseverance and drive, despite the death of their comrades Lucy West, Star Paladin Cross, Paladin Vargas, and Protector McGraw, had finally bore fruit. They stood only miles away from what had to be the largest and most bustling city in the world.

"Viva New Vegas!" Donnovan exclaimed, tweaking a quote he had remembered from a Vault history archive on the state of Nevada.

The short-term goal of the expedition was now simple: get to New Vegas and relax. Seeing as how their last attempt at this had been violently interrupted, they were looking forward to entering the city they were gazing at. They collectively agreed to take a good, long rest upon their arrival. After all, the weary Corps of Rediscovery deserved it. The expedition now longed to be inside of the reinforced walls of the city. Upon their arrival, they would force themselves to recuperate, and do everything they could to avoid any sort of trouble or quarrel for a time.

.

But like every cloud had a silver lining, every silver lining had a cloud. Every good thing had a catch, and New Vegas' was a huge one.

.

The bull and the bear were vying for control of the gem of the Mojave, but there was no way they could have known that. New Vegas was nothing like what it seemed, but they couldn't have known that either.

.

On the outskirts of the Strip's bright lights lay a darker reality, a mess of shattered dreams that manifested in a horrible, horrible example of society's outcasts. Rage, frustration, and resentment, fueled by a seemingly bottomless supply of drugs, had reached its limit. New Vegas would be inevitably thrown back into war, and the Mojave would not be left untouched.

.

And the outsiders that had just arrived on its doorstep? They'd be sucked into the conflict whether they liked it or not.

.

Because war…

.

War never changes.

.

.

.

.

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**Author's Note: I'd like to thank everyone who has been reading this story and leaving reviews. Seriously, thank you guys. It has been your reviews, messages, and questions that have helped me to keep going, and that brought me out of a particular lull in writing, during which I thought I would never finish this story. Again, BeGodlyBeLynn, I don't know what I'd do without you. You are awesome. Thank you!**

**In case I have not been clear earlier, there will be a sequel. When will it appear? Well, that, I am very unsure of. It will not be any time soon, I can say that for certain. I have made notes on every suggestion I have received, and examined the mistakes I have made when writing this, both major and minor. I will take all of this, and try my best to craft a story that will hopefully be better than this one. If you have any questions, feel free to message me, and I will answer them (without revealing future storylines or plot points, of course). With that, I give another hearty thank you, and bid you adieu.**

**Goodnight, good luck, and stay tuned for future installments of Back to the West.**

**And maybe… Just maybe… A tiny glimpse into the future of the series might be offered here in a day or two. Keep an eye out. ;)**


	39. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the Capital Wasteland as Knight Captain Gallows walked along on the catwalks stretching across the tops of the Citadel. He nodded to the Knights and Defenders manning the watch posts in acknowledgement. Since the expedition had left, which was now almost a year ago, many great strides had been taken in fixing the rift between the Brotherhood and the Outcasts. Though tensions were still present, with both sides able to do what they wanted, there were no real problems save for the occasional heated argument. Thanks to the increase in manpower, Gallows himself had finally begun to receive breaks from his service about two weeks ago. He was using his current one to brush up on medieval history from a book taken from the Arlington Library, and had briefly set the book down to stretch his legs outside. The night was mostly calm, save for the usual cracks of gunfire coming from downtown D.C.

Gallows was just about to turn and head back inside, when three fast-moving figures caught his eye. They were all dressed in hooded robes and walking rapidly across the Rivet City drawbridge, their every movement lit up by a spotlight set into the hull of the carrier. With the increased trade and traffic due to the functioning water purifier and the disappearance of the Enclave, the Rivet City market had decided to stay open twenty-four hours a day. It was not uncommon for strange individuals to visit the market at all hours of the night. Yet to Gallows, there was something particularly strange about these individuals. Harkness, the chief of security, seemed to notice something as well. He stepped forward, his plasma rifle in his hands, and held his hand out, his palm vertical. The three figures froze, standing eerily still as they looked on. Then, something of a sixth sense overtook Gallows seconds before several bursts of gunfire cut through the night air, coming from across the water. The radio next to the Outcast watchman, the line between the Citadel and the purifier, crackled. There was a reason Gallows was the primary covert operator of the Brotherhood, and he had learned to trust his instincts. Following up, he moved next to the Outcast, who glanced at him briefly. Several other crackles followed, before a voice suddenly came through, mostly loud and clear.

"Hello? HELLO?" A male voice was whispering as loud as it could. There was a note of fear that could be heard. "Is anyone there?"

The Defender gave Gallows a shrug before answering. "This is Defender Camden at the Citadel. Who is this?"

"There's someone here!" The voice hissed. "I heard shots! They're in the hallway! I don't know if they've heard me, but-"

Over the radio, a massive clang could be heard, followed by a quick burst of high-caliber gunfire.

Camden looked up in the direction of the Jefferson Memorial. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing good." Gallows answered curtly.

As if to emphasize his statement, a low, rasping voice could be heard emanating from the radio. "Soon, my brothers, we will achieve salvation. The transcending waters will flow!" The speaker sounded like he was some distance from the radio on the other end of the line.

Another voice, this one much closer cut in. "This heretic is still gripping the radio…"

"I will take care of it." A third voice commanded. With that, there was a click, and the line went dead.

Defender Camden and Knight Captain Gallows took one last look in the direction of the memorial.

"We need to go." Gallows said in his trademark, straight-to-the-point fashion.

"Couldn't agree more." Defender Camden stated, turning and walking towards the ladder that led off of the catwalk, Gallows following suit.

.

Donnovan couldn't have known, but his old demons had turned up at the doorstep of his home…


End file.
